Guide And Guardian
by TMara
Summary: Christine expected to find perfect happiness with Raoul, but has reality lived up to her expectations?
1. Prologue

Okay... where to start? Right, I still don't own anything or anybody.

This is the beginning of a new story, well, more like a teaser. I am deliberately being vague here, everything will be explained later in the story, though, therefore do not worry if you do not quite understand what is going on in this short prologue.

We are in late December 1871, and the fire took place in February (since the Masquerade marks the new year and they decided only days later to perform "Don Juan" - with a few weeks for rehearsals, set construction etc. that puts the opening night of "Don Juan" at some point in February 1871, I think).

Of course this story will be E&C again, mostly movie-based, but again with Nadir.

And I still love reviews,... (hint, hint)

Prologue

It was one of those winter days between Christmas and New Year, when the sky is gray and full of clouds, thick snowflakes are twirling in the wind and one has to keep a light on in the room all day. An elderly man with olive skin sat at his desk and stared at a note he had received from one of his contacts. He had read it a few times already, but he seemed to believe that the content of the message might change if only he kept looking at it long enough.

He shook his head in puzzlement. This was not at all what he had expected. What was he to do now? Could he pass on this bit of information as he had originally planned, as he had even promised to do? If he did, how would these news affect his friend? Would this latest blow kill him? But if he withheld the truth – what could he say? That he had not been able to get the information yet? Or should he lie and invent something?

He cursed inwardly. "That's what you get for putting your nose into other people's affairs," he thought to himself. "Now you have those bad news – news about how this person's life is pretty much in shambles, you feel sorry but are unable to do anything about the situation, and then you have another person to consider, who may not be strong enough to deal with that kind of news." He was not sure who he should feel more sorry for, the person about whom he had received the disconcerting news, or the one, who was eagerly waiting for even the tiniest bit of information on that particular person. How different things could have been, for both these people, if only… He sighed. Ten months ago, decisions had been made that now had the potential of destroying two lives.

Suddenly he sat up straight. Maybe some good would come of the dreadful situation after all. It was a risky gamble, but if he played his cards right, if he presented those news in a certain way, he might be able to help them both. Hopefully he could save one life – and in doing so help put another life back on track. Yes, he thought contently, maybe these news were not so bad after all…


	2. Expectations and Reality

Okay, I hope by now nobody expects me anymore to own anybody or anything, for I still don't.

This is now the first chapter of "Guide and Guardian", and maybe the prologue will finally start to make sense. We begin with a look at Christine's life after the fire. Sorry, no Erik in this chapter, but we'll get to him. Soon. I promise.

Chapter 1 – Expectations and Reality

June 1872

The well-kept garden of the large, aristocratic summer residence was bathed in the lovely afternoon sunshine, that added golden highlights to the red roof of the old house. A fresh breeze was coming in from the sea, making the day's heat bearable. On the terrace in front of the house, which was shadowed by a bright marquee, a young woman was sitting, barely more than a child. She looked out into the garden, in the golden sunshine and to the brightly colored flowers, but she did not seem to notice any of nature's wonders around her. She was deep in thought, her left hand resting on her swollen belly, the sign of impending motherhood.

Christine de Chagny tried not to think of her current situation, she tried to remember her happy childhood instead, when her father was still alive, when they had been home in Sweden. Back home people would be celebrating midsommardågen soon, they would prepare the flowers and the wreaths, and the food, and would get ready to dance and celebrate the longest day of the year. Her father used to play the violin to accompany the dancers, and everybody had always been happy and in a great mood. How different things were for her now!

Sixteen months ago, she had been full of hopes and dreams, when she had escaped the fire at the Opera Populaire – and that being who had posed as her Angel of Music for so many years. She and Raoul had been planning to get married and surely they would live happily ever after. That had been the plan, at least. But reality had turned out to be quite different.

At first everything had gone well. Raoul had brought her to Mme. Giry for propriety's sake. Since Christine was a performer and her name had also been linked to the infamous Opera Ghost who had brought down the chandelier and in doing so set the Opera on fire, they had tried to be overly correct. They only had met in Mme. Giry's presence and had made sure that the banns were read in church the necessary amount of times, before they had finally gotten married in April of 1871 – fourteen months ago.

They had immediately gone on a long trip, spending the first two months of their honeymoon touring several European countries. They had been incredibly happy – there had been so much to see and to learn, and they had finally been together. They had returned home last June – about a year ago, around the time of the year when the French nobility left the capital to spend the summer months in the countryside. Raoul and Christine had left as well and gone to his manor in Normandy – near the little town where they had met for the first time as children.

They had passed the summer there, still happy, not knowing what was about to come. In September they had returned to Paris and Raoul had finally introduced his young wife to the Parisian society. The first problem had been that they were no longer alone. They had to live at the de Chagny estate, together with Raoul's parents, whose attitude towards Christine had noticeably cooled since she had become their daughter-in-law. They had appreciated her father's art and were enthusiastic about her singing, but a performer was most definitely not who they would have wanted their son to marry. They never forgot their manners around her, but they only treated her in the most reserved and cold way, making it clear that she was neither welcome in their family nor considered to be on the same level as they were. This situation weighed heavily on Christine, but it affected Raoul as well, who loved his parents dearly and did not want to upset them. Since the old couple made it quite clear to Raoul that he had greatly disappointed them with his choice of a wife, he felt guilty and therefore more often than not took their side against Christine when there was a little problem – to make the situation less difficult for his poor parents, whose hopes he had shattered by marrying a commoner, and an artist, to boot.

Things got worse when Raoul introduced his wife to his friends. The men seemed to consider her to be on the same level as their mistresses and used to stare at her in a way that made her feel uneasy or they showed her in other, unmistakable ways that they did not consider her a lady. The female half of the French aristocracy did not behave any better, they simply ignored Christine as much as possible, and while she did not particularly mind not getting invitations to ladies' teas and similar events, she did hate having to spend time with the young noblewomen, when she was barely able to follow a conversation, since she did not know half the people the other ladies were talking about and had therefore nothing to contribute. When she complained to Raoul, he told her that she was surely imagining this. He most definitely got enough compliments on his beautiful wife, so why would she think she was not accepted? She simply should try harder to make friends, that was all she ever heard from him. When she thought she could bear it no longer, she had practically begged Raoul to return to Normandy with her, but he had refused and had called her oversensitive, hysterical and ungrateful for the wonderful life he was offering her.

From that day on an estrangement had developed between the couple. Raoul was not willing anymore to tolerate his wife's caprices as he called it. He had no patience for her problems any longer, and Christine felt more and more lonely. Then two things happened almost at the same time. Shortly before Christmas Raoul told her that he had rejoined the Navy and would leave France right after the New Year – to escape from the annoying situation at home, her unwillingness to adapt to her new life, and her constant complaints, as well as from his parents' silent reproaches about the unsuitable daughter-in-law. That same week Christine had finally gotten confirmation that she was at last pregnant.

Christine had yearned for a child very much in the first few months of her marriage, but when she finally felt the new life growing inside of her it was a shock. Her position in society was precarious at best – what would her child's be? Would the singer's child be accepted as a true de Chagny by her in-laws? As much as she had longed for a child, under the circumstances her pregnancy only added to her problems. Raoul took the news very stoically. In a way he was pleased, and of course he hoped that she would bear him the son and heir that he needed, but he also was not willing to cancel his tour of duty in the Navy because of his wife's pregnancy. He would leave as planned and since she was pregnant, but only because of that circumstance, it might be acceptable for her to retire to the countryside and spend the next few months at his house in Normandy. Alone. Raoul had behaved as if he were granting her a huge favor by allowing her to live in Normandy for the time being, but Christine had indeed been glad to escape her in-laws' frosty home and the whole unfriendly aristocracy of the capital. She had gone to Normandy the same day her husband had left with the Navy. That had been over five months ago. She was by now at the end of her seventh month of pregnancy, her baby would be due in August.

She sighed. Raoul would come home in about three weeks and since it was summer again, he could have no objections to staying here in the countryside and waiting for the birth of their child here. She hoped that things would get better once their baby was born. Surely, if she could give Raoul an heir, this would improve her status with the family – and maybe with his aristocratic friends as well. At least she hoped. And if the child was a girl, maybe, just maybe, they would let her raise her daughter and she would finally have somebody that she could shower with her love and that would loved her in return.

A young maid came out on the terrace and interrupted her thoughts by announcing "Monsieur de Chagny". Christine's face brightened. Had Raoul returned a few weeks early, driven by his longing for her? "Raoul is here already?" she asked smiling. The maid gave her a condescending look. Would this woman that Master Raoul had been stupid enough to marry never learn? "Not the Vicomte," she corrected her mistress's error. "Monsieur Théophile-Auguste de Chagny!"

Christine's smile died. How stupid of her. Raoul was the Vicomte de Chagny, his father was the Comte de Chagny – and every other male relative was simply a "Monsieur". She should have known that, Raoul had explained it to her several times. She was also unhappy to hear that her visitor was Raoul's distant cousin Théophile-Auguste, who happened to be the closest male relative. Should Raoul die without a male heir, the title – and the family assets - would go to this man. She therefore could not help but feel uncomfortable in his presence. Surely he hated the fact that she might be carrying a son. What did he want of her anyway?

She told the maid to show the visitor to the terrace and bring refreshments. A few moments later, Raoul's cousin entered. He eyed her huge belly in a rather impertinent way, and greeted her with a brief nod. "Cousine," he began the conversation, "I see that you are well. Have you had news from the Vicomte?" Christine felt uncomfortable under his stare. She knew that she looked terrible at the moment. It was not just her large belly, but pregnancy had taken its toll on her, her face was puffy, and her worries had caused her many sleepless nights, which had resulted in dark rings around her beautiful brown eyes.

She faced her opponent. Raoul's cousin was a few years older than her husband, his hair was a shade darker and his eyes were rather green than blue, but otherwise one could have mistaken him for Raoul's brother. The family likeness was fairly obvious. "Cousin," she addressed the unexpected visitor, offering him a seat. "Raoul writes regularly, and posts his letters every time they are in a port. He is well. They are currently on schedule, and therefore he is expected to come home in about three weeks, as planned." She smirked at him mockingly. "Surely, he has written to you as well?"

Théophile-Auguste barely masked his anger. No, he had not received a letter from his young cousin in weeks, but he was not going to tell that … comedian… or worse… that other than his old parents, she seemed to be the only one to get letters from the Vicomte. He would not allow her that triumph. There were more important things to discuss.

He eyed her belly again. "Cousine, as I see, the de Chagny heir will soon be born. When exactly is the baby due?" he asked innocently, watching her closely. "In September? Or is it early October?" Christine got furious. He must know that the child had been conceived in late November, that she had known about her pregnancy for a few weeks before Raoul had left. Why did he insinuate now that conception might have taken place much later – maybe after Raoul's departure? Was he doubting her virtue and her child's legitimacy?

She tried to stay in control and gave him her sweetest smile. "Mon Cousin," she retorted, "surely you remember that we had known about the baby before Christmas? The de Chagny heir will be born in August." She put more conviction into her voice than she felt. What if the baby was not an heir, but a daughter? Théophile-Auguste sensed her uneasiness and interpreted it his way. He was pretty convinced by now that the child she was bearing could not be a de Chagny. After all, she was a comedian, a woman of loose morals, who knew how many men had enjoyed her company? And had there not been rumors about her and this hideously ugly criminal even before Raoul had married her? If she had lain with such a creature, surely there must have been others as well. Even if her baby was a boy, he was fairly certain he could still claim the title and the assets as rightfully his.

He looked at her once more, undressing her in his mind. He decided that she was not half bad. Once she had given birth and had her figure back, she might be worth his attention. And if she liked violent and rough treatment as her rather public affair with that Opera monster seemed to indicate, she might even be an entertaining mistress. He had to keep that in mind.

Openly he feigned being contrite. "Oh ma cousine, I am so sorry, how could I forget! Of course, August will see the birth of our new relative. I am sure, Raoul is already looking forward to his heir very much?" Christine was not quite certain how to interpret his last sentence, but she kept her cool. "Of course, he is very excited about the baby." She decided that two could play at that game. "It was such a bad coincidence that he had just signed up for this tour of duty when we found out about the baby. Of course he would have preferred staying home with me, but he felt honor-bound to keep his word as an officer of the Navy and to go on this tour as he had committed himself to do. Now he is happy to come home and be there when the de Chagny heir will be born." She looked the impertinent cousin straight in the eyes. Take this, you filthy scum, she thought. If you doubt my child's legitimacy, you will find me a worthy opponent. I will fight for this baby's rights. I may not be accepted into the aristocratic society ever, but my child is a de Chagny and therefore should be treated with due respect.

Théophile-Auguste had no plans of staying any longer. The main reason for his visit had been to have a look at this woman of Raoul's to maybe judge from her appearance if she was really as far ahead in her pregnancy as she claimed, or to find out in conversation if there maybe was at least some doubt, whether the baby would have the right to bear the de Chagny name once he or she would be born. Of course, nothing of this really mattered, if she gave birth to a daughter, but should the child be a boy, he, Théophile-Auguste, had to be on his guard. Then he had to fight for his own rights and make sure that the so-called heir was at least frowned upon and his legitimacy considered doubtful. It might be a good idea to write to Raoul right away and to plant the seed of suspicion in his cousin's mind…

He suddenly seemed in a hurry to leave. In fact, he thought that there was much to do, if he wanted to keep his position as the next in line for the title. "Ma cousine, you will excuse me," he addressed Christine. "I would have liked to enjoy your company for a while longer, but urgent business affairs keep me from staying. I will call again soon, once my dear cousin Raoul is back. I am sure he will have lots of interesting adventures to tell us, life on a boat is so exciting!" Christine was relieved that this visit was over. She told him that Raoul would certainly be delighted to see him and that he was always welcome to visit, whenever he was in the neighborhood. Inwardly she thought that she would be glad if she never had to see that slimy relative again, but she managed to keep up appearances and to give him that empty smile that a relative was entitled to by etiquette.

She sighed with relief the moment her visitor had left. He had made her quite uncomfortable. She had sensed his hostility, but she had also felt insulted by the way he had looked at her, as if she were a merchandise the quality of which he was trying to assess, and even… she shuddered at the thought. That cousin had looked at her as if he were trying to imagine what she looked like naked, as if he were considering stripping her and having his way with her in the most animalistic way. And as if he might enjoy having her beg for mercy while abusing her body most cruelly.

It was not the first time, a nobleman had treated her so insultingly, but it was the first time a family member had behaved towards her in such a way and she shuddered at the thought that not even those who should feel honor-bound to respect Raoul's rights seemed inclined to do so where she was concerned. Would things really get any better, once Raoul would be back and the baby would be born? She was not so sure anymore. There was only one thing she knew with absolute certainty: somehow, at some point, something in her life had gone terribly wrong, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get her life back on track. She was still so young, she was not even twenty yet. Her whole life was still lying ahead of her. But would it be worth living? She did not think so anymore. She felt so frustrated and discouraged after that horrible visit, that she thought it would require a miracle for her to ever find some happiness in this life again. If it had not been for her unborn child she might have considered ending this miserable life sooner rather than later, but for the baby's sake she would have to keep going. For the baby's sake she would have to endure her miserable life, to face the constant insults and humiliations, to remain strong.


	3. Worry

Okay, you know the routine by now, I don't own anything or anybody...

Since this story is movie-based, let's just assume the same about how Erik and Nadir met, as we have done in my previous story "You Are Not Alone". For those that have not read that one, here is the recap of what I explained there in an author's note:

"We are in 1871 (early April right now, since Nadir is back); Christine is 17, Erik in his mid-thirties  
>they have known each other for roughly 10 years (since she was orphaned at 7), Erik must have been around 25 at that time<br>when E&C first met, both Erik and Mme. Giry had been back to the Opera for a while (Giry said so in chapter 2)  
>Giry had returned to the Opera after her husband's death; since she had not gone back to dancing (see ch. 2), Meg probably still was very young, maybe 1-2 at that time, hence this happened about 4-5 years before Christine arrived at the Opera. Erik would have been around 20 at that time, if we assume that Meg and Christine are roughly the same age. He was in Persia (and presumably Italy) during Mme. Giry's absence. Let's say it took her 4-5 years to date M. Giry, get married, get pregnant, have Meg until her husband's death, then Erik was away for about that much time, when he was maybe between 1516 to 20/21. Of course Nadir was a widower with child at that time and is therefore probably at least 15 years older than Erik, hence approximately 50-55 in this story."

Of course, we are in June 1872 in this story, but the backstory is pretty much the same and the age differene between the two men as well.

Thank you so very much to all my readers and reviewers, to those who put me or this story on alert, or have added any of my stories to their favorites! Your support is very much appreciated!

Chapter 2 – Worry

Later that same afternoon an elderly man walked from the little town in the vicinity of the de Chagny summer residence towards a small hut, which was situated in a rather isolated location, directly at the shore. He was dressed like a fisherman and his dark, apparently weathered face also seemed to indicate this profession. He had obviously been at the town's market, since he carried a large basket full of provisions.

Once he reached his destination, he let himself in and put his basket down on the large table in the little hut's main room. He looked around, as if he had expected someone to be home, then called hesitantly "Erik?" When there was no answer he looked out of the window towards the back yard. As he had suspected, the sturdy little pony that used to be out there all day long, was missing as well. He cursed. It was clear, that his companion had taken the pony for a ride. The elderly man had a pretty good idea where his friend might have gone - which was exactly what worried him. How many times had he told him to stay home, or if he had to go out for a while, at least to stay away from that particular place for the time being? What if somebody saw him there? It would probably blow their cover and they would have to leave the area – which would make it much harder for them to stick to their plan. But he knew that there was no point in trying to make a love-sick man see reason.

Right now there was nothing he could do about the younger man's risky excursion. He would have to wait for his return. He started unpacking his basket and stowing away his provisions. Then he began preparing a vegetable stew for dinner. After a while he heard the clattering of hooves and a few minutes later, the door opened and a tall, very thin man entered. The newcomer seemed to be in his mid-thirties. He wore the same outfit of the local fishermen as his older companion, plus a wide-brimmed hat, which was perched on his head in a way that it kept the entire right half of his face in the shadow.

The older man sighed with relief. "Thank God, you are back, Erik," he said. "I take it, nobody saw you on your trip?" The one called Erik removed his hat, revealing a white mask that covered about the right half of his face. "Of course not, Nadir," he hissed, as if insulted. "Have you forgotten that I am a master of stealth?" The other man shook his head, annoyed. "Don't call me that! We cannot be cautious enough. How many times have I told you that you are supposed to be my nephew and therefore should address me as 'Uncle Jacques' or 'uncle', if you prefer. It is imperative that nobody around here finds out who you really are – unless, of course, you want to leave the area and abandon you-know-who."

Erik hung his head. "I know," he admitted contritely, "but… uncle," he remembered at the last moment how to address his friend, "I had to see her." The "uncle" sighed. "I feared as much," he replied. After a moment of silence, he asked his supposed nephew: "And.. did you see her?" Erik nodded. "Yes, I did." His voice suddenly sounded tortured and his expressive eyes were shrouded with pain and compassion. "She is not happy at all. I thought, by releasing her, I would give her the happy life she deserves, but… he has destroyed her, uncle, he has killed her soul. She is only a shadow of her former self." Nadir patted him on the shoulder in an avuncular manner, but this display of understanding did not seem to comfort Erik. "Yes, she is with child," Erik added softly, a new wave of pain passing through him at the thought that the woman he still loved with all his heart was carrying another man's child. "The pregnancy is certainly partly to blame for the way she looks right now, but wouldn't you expect a woman in her situation, so close to giving birth to her first child, to be happy and to look forward to the baby?" The memory of Christine's blank stares, of her brooding, tortured expressions, haunted him. "The sunshine, the spark is gone from her eyes," he whispered, fighting back tears. "If only I had known. I would have forced her to stay with me for her own good," he added desperately.

Nadir looked his younger friend in the eye. "You did the right thing, Erik. She would be better off with you only if she wanted to be with you. You know that." Erik nodded. He would have given this woman the moon and the stars if they had been his to give, and he would not even have asked for much in return, just to have her around, to be allowed to adore her and to spoil her. But she had not wanted his love, she had preferred that pretty face of a boy, and now… "She has not found the happiness she had hoped for," his tears were flowing freely now, "I do not know what this boy has done to her, but he seems to have broken her. She sits in that beautiful garden, and stares at her surroundings, but she does not seem to see it, some part of her is missing, and it may be gone forever,…" his voice broke.

Nadir squeezed his shoulder. "I know. Remember, what I told you last winter? She is unhappy, and what is worse, she is in trouble, probably in danger as well. That's why I worked so hard to beat some will to live into you again, when you were almost dying on me. She needs a friend. And as far as I know, the Giry women, as loyal as they may be to her, cannot be of much help to her in this situation, and other than them, she only has one person, who cares deeply for her."

Erik's chest rose in a deep sigh. He worshiped the ground the young Vicomtesse walked on. He would do anything to help her and to make her happy again. Heck, he had already sacrificed his own happiness for her sake – except that apparently had not had the desired effect and now she was tied to this – boy. She was lost to him forever. But it was obvious that she was in trouble, and if she did indeed need a friend, he would be there for her. Always. He would have to take his heart in both hands and hold it tight, to keep it from awakening long-believed-to-be-dead wishes and desires in him, but if she truly needed somebody, her Angel would be there for her, to watch over her again, as he had always done.

He looked at Nadir. "You have been to the market, I take it? Have you learned anything there about her situation?" Nadir nodded. From what he had heard that afternoon, his worst fears were about to become reality. Or, reality might even be more dangerous and terrible than he had imagined it in his worst nightmares. "Yes, Erik, I was at the market, we needed groceries anyway. It is a good thing, that we came here as soon as you were strong enough to be moved. The people here have accepted me as one of them by now. They tell this former sailor who has come to live here with his ailing nephew, who is recovering from a severe injury and emotional trauma, things that they would not tell a stranger." Erik grinned. "It is amazing they believe you to be a Frenchman," he said. "Your accent may not be too obvious, but it is definitely there." Nadir laughed. "Oh, I have explained that away. First, I am not from this area, but from the South, from the vicinity of Marseille. Second, I have been a sailor all my life, and I have served on several ships, with fellow sailors coming from different countries, and I have mostly sailed the Mediterranean and have spent lots of time in some ports in the Orient, and therefore I have developed a more cosmopolitan accent."

Erik smirked at his friend. "It is a good thing, too, your nephew is suffering from an emotional trauma, and therefore avoids meeting anybody. Nobody who sees the two of us together would believe that we are related." Nadir had an answer to that criticism as well. "I told them you are my older sister's boy. You obviously come after your father, who was a tall and slender man, not after my side of the family. But since nobody is to see you, this explanation was not really necessary," he added pointedly. "Or do you really think that if anybody notices your mask, they will not immediately put two and two together? How many men your age do you think are there in all of France, who wear a mask? And how many of them have any motive for being near the Vicomtesse?"

Erik knew that his friend was right. If he truly wanted to be able to help Christine should she be in danger, as Nadir – and he as well – feared, it was imperative not to alert a potential opponent to the fact that he was currently in the area. It had been risky to go to the de Chagny summer house today, but his heart had drawn him there, he had heard so much about his beloved Christine's situation and her state of mind, that he had had to see for himself, how she was doing. He had hoped that all those tales of her melancholy and unhappiness were exaggerated, but he knew now that reality was far worse than he had imagined. Seeing her look at her surroundings with such a blank stare, as if her very soul, her spirit, had left her, had caused him almost physical pain.

Erik suddenly remembered that Nadir had been to the market and had listened to some gossip there. He looked at his friend, nervously. What would he have to hear? How bad was her situation really? "So, what have you been able to learn at the market?" he asked his companion. Nadir gazed at his young friend, who was obviously still fighting the pain that he had experienced by observing Christine's state of mind first-hand. "Are you sure you can deal with it?" he asked. "Maybe you should calm down a bit, before I tell you more." Erik shook his head. "No, I cannot find any peace, unless I know the whole truth. I am so worried about her. Please, tell me everything."

Nadir gave in. Erik was probably right. Once he knew everything, he would be able to assert the situation and consider possible ways of helping the poor woman. He nodded. "Okay, then. You shall hear it all. Things are at least as bad as I told you last winter. First, she has not been accepted into nobility – not by her in-laws, not by the other aristocratic families, and, worst of all, not by the servants either. They laugh at her, when she makes the slightest mistake, when they realize that she does not know the correct way how to handle any given situation. To them, she is a disgrace to the de Chagny family and they cannot understand, how the young Vicomte could actually marry her."

Erik's temper flared up. "How can they dare treat her like that! She may not have been brought up like a noblewoman, so there may be a few things she does not know, but with her natural grace and her beauty, her friendliness, she is way superior to all those aristocratic puppets!" Nadir smiled at him. He knew how badly Christine's betrayal had hurt his friend, and yet Erik still loved her and defended her. His friend's undying love and loyalty were endearing.

"Calm down, Erik," he gently admonished his agitated companion. "They value etiquette above everything, and since she is not well-versed in that regard, in their eyes she is inferior. But that is not all," he added. He was reluctant to tell his friend the other reason, why Christine's position in society was so precarious. "They also see her as unworthy of her current position because of her past. They cannot forget that she was a performer, a dancer and singer, a woman exhibiting herself on a stage." If possible, Erik grew even more furious. "She is an artist!" he screamed, "she brings the composers' characters to life and entertains people with her inspired, expressive performances. That does not make her a lose woman!" Nadir sighed. "I know that she is virtuous, but that is indeed a rare quality with singers, and in particular with dancers," he reminded Erik. "That is the reason why so many noblemen have such women as their mistresses. The common opinion among the aristocracy is that one does not marry that kind of a woman. This has nothing to do with her personally, just with her former profession," he tried to calm his friend. Erik fought for control. "How can they think her capable of such behavior," he whispered. "She is so innocent, so pure…" Nadir considered for a moment whether or not to pass on the next piece of information, but he finally decided that Erik needed to know everything. "There are those that think that she… and you…" His voice trailed and he left the sentence unfinished. Erik understood him anyway. His fist hit the table hard in frustration, his eyes ablaze with fury. "How dare they! I would never have done that to her, I would never have forced her!" Nadir's hand reached for Erik's shoulder and squeezed it. "That's not what they think, Erik. They think she was your mistress – willingly."

Erik stared at his friend unbelievingly. "They cannot reasonably assume that any woman would want to… with me!" He shook his head. "Not even if I paid them would they allow me to… How can they possibly think that a beautiful, talented angel like Christine would choose me for her lover?" Nadir thought that he could well imagine a woman appreciating the depth of Erik's love despite his looks, but he knew that it was pointless to discuss this issue with Erik. His friend would never believe him, especially not after Christine's betrayal. He therefore only shrugged his shoulders and continued, "I guess, they know that her name was linked to yours, what with "Don Juan" and the chandelier and everything. I guess they assume you were fighting to keep her. Somehow they think there can't be smoke without a fire and that there was a reason you did not want to let her go, that you might have had a right to make her stay with you."

Erik was devastated. "Me! They consider her of low morals because of me! Nadir, I did not want that, I did not want to harm her that badly," he cried in desperation. Nadir tried to comfort him. "Don't take it so hard, Erik. As I said, they would think that of her anyway, because of her profession. It is not your fault. Even if you and her had never met, they would see her as mistress-material at best."

Erik dried his tears. "And that boy does not defend her, he leaves for the Navy and abandons her to gossip and wild speculations. I can understand how this would affect her, even under normal circumstances, how much worse would this lack of support and understanding hit her in her current condition." His heart ached at the thought of what Christine must be going through at the moment. He could not understand the Vicomte. How could he leave her like that? He, Erik, would never have abandoned her. He would have stayed by her side and protected her, he would have defended her virtue and her reputation. He would have died for her, if that had helped…

Nadir had no sympathy for the Vicomte either. "That's not all this useless husband of hers did," he continued. "He did not only abandon her quite openly and that way gave rise to speculations about the marriage and the truth of certain suspicions, he also left her alone, unprotected, as possible prey to an enemy. As I told you, his cousin, Monsieur Théophile-Auguste de Chagny, is in desperate need of money. He is indebted everywhere and some of his obligations are due fairly soon. As long as he could claim to be the next in line for the title and the assets of the de Chagny family, he has always succeeded to either raise new funds or get a moratorium for his debts. Now with the Vicomte's wife pregnant, and the possibility that she may be carrying the future heir, his financial situation has deteriorated over the past few months and become really desperate. He is trying everything to regain territory, he has already spread rumors doubting the legitimacy of the child the Vicomtesse is carrying…" Erik groaned again in desperation. "I wish he were right. Oh, how I wish he were right, and the child she is carrying were mine instead of the Vicomte's," he whispered. "But God knows, I never touched her." Nadir patted him on the shoulder. "I know that, Erik. And the timing is all wrong, anyway. When the child was conceived, you were way too ill to do such a thing." That was indisputably true, but who would believe it?

Nadir continued, "fortunately, that Théophile-person is not too popular with the people around here, either. They do not like the idea of him being the next in line to the title. Should anything happen to the Vicomte, they would be at this man's mercy, and it is generally assumed that he would not care for his servants or his neighbors one way or the other. Of course, the thought of having a new heir of doubtful legitimacy, does not appeal to them either, but it is still the lesser of two evils in their opinion. They therefore all hope that the Vicomtesse will give birth to a boy when her time comes. If for no other reason than to spite that cousin who behaves like everything were already his. But," Nadir's voice turned dark and heavy, "they have begun to fear for the Vicomtesse's life. They think Théophile-Auguste will do anything to prevent this child from being born. And since the Vicomte is supposed to return in about three week's time, they think Monsieur Théophile will strike before that. He will either try to kill the Vicomtesse or cause her to miscarry," he added, looking at his friend. Erik's face had turned ashen. Nadir had to deliver yet another blow. "Monsieur Théophile-Auguste de Chagny arrived in town last night. It seems he is about to attack."


	4. Loss and Danger

I still don't own anything or anybody, but I still love my loyal readers and reviewers from all over the world! This month, people from 38 countries have already checked out my stories. Isn't that exciting?

Anyway, Christine's situation is getting worse, before it's getting better, and you will have to wait a bit longer, till she meets her Angel again, but we are getting close to the good stuff now, I promise!

Chapter 3 – Loss and Danger

Early July 1872

Summer was unusually warm and sunny in the little town at the sea-side. One beautiful day with perfect, azure, cloudless sky followed the next. It looked as if life were nothing but brightness and sunshine. The wonderful weather was in stark contrast to the mood of the young Vicomtesse de Chagny, though. If possible, she felt even more miserable since the short visit of Théophile-Auguste. Somehow it seemed to her as if the servants were looking down on her even more since that relative had paid his visit. She wondered, if she was maybe imagining this, for what influence could his presence possibly have had on her household staff? Had he in front of them behaved towards her in a way to convince them she did not deserve any better? Had he slandered her behind her back? He certainly had treated her as if he considered her to be a common adventuress, a cleverly calculating whore, who had managed to catch the goldfish. But would he share such an opinion with the servants? After all, she was his cousin's rightful wife and thus a member of his family, whether he liked that fact or not.

Christine felt more isolated and lonely than ever. She realized that her position was maybe even more precarious than she had thought before and the more she thought about it, the less she hoped that Raoul's return might change things for the better. He was due any day now. The current lack of strong wind might affect the boat's speed a bit, she thought, thus delaying them for a day or two, and she was not sure if he would come straight to her, once they landed in Le Havre, or if he would go to Paris first, to see his parents. Either way he should be here any day now, certainly within the next week.

Christine had not seen her husband for over six months, and their relationship had been strained even before that. She was therefore not sure whether she should be happy about his imminent return or not. Would the distance have worked in her favor? Would he have missed her and thus be more willing to offer her understanding and comfort when he came home? Or had his anger at her inability - or unwillingness as he called it - to adapt to the life of a noblewoman increased over all this time? His letters had been rare and usually rather short, he had mostly told her about his daily work and his colleagues, the places they had visited, and had finished with the obligatory phrase that he hoped she was well and the baby too, and that he was looking forward to his future heir.

Christine did not care whether the baby she was carrying would be an heir or a daughter. She knew that she would love the child, no matter what sex it would be. She lovingly rubbed her belly, when she felt her offspring move. The baby was getting strong, it kicked her quite forcefully now. She smiled. She was so looking forward to the little one though she was a bit scared at the thought of giving birth. She knew in theory what would happen, of course, but she was fairly certain that this would involve great pain. It would be worth it, though, if in the end she could finally hold her little darling. She wondered what the child would look like. Would the little one inherit the facial structures of the de Chagnys, or would the baby be more a Daaé? She certainly would have preferred the child to inherit her father's caring, nurturing personality rather than the cold, frosty, conceited attitude of Raoul's family.

Her thoughts returned to Raoul. Would he want to be with her while she would be giving birth? Would he want to comfort her and somehow share the pain? Or would he prefer to wait outside, like most men of his class did? What would his attitude towards the child be? Would he love it, or would he just be proud to have an heir? What if it was a girl? Would he be disappointed? And if so, would he let her feel it? Her and the child?

Her thoughts were interrupted by her maid Margot announcing that a messenger had arrived from the de Chagny estate in Paris. To Christine the nervous young woman seemed deathly pale and she suddenly felt uneasy herself, experiencing a strong foreboding of imminent danger or doom. She shivered despite the summer heat.

Christine asked Margot to send the messenger in. When the blond man entered, she immediately recognized him as George, her father-in-law's first huntsman and best rider. She realized that he had probably reached her faster than any letter by normal post would have. The news he brought must be of utmost importance. She straightened herself, trying to summon all her strength so that she would be able to deal with whatever George had to tell her.

"Madame," George greeted her, "the Comte de Chagny asked me to relay to you this letter immediately upon my arrival." With these word, he pulled a sealed letter out of his pocket and handed it to her. Christine thanked him and inspected the letter. Her father-in-law's seal, the seal of the head of the de Chagny family, was all she could see on the outside. Nothing other than George's words indicated that the letter was meant for her.

Christine broke the seal and started reading. After the first few words, tears started welling in her eyes and her heart felt as if it were being grabbed by an ice-cold hand and squeezed tight. The young woman was in shock, and she was not even sure what hurt her more, the frosty tone of the short note, or the message it contained, for she had read her husband's death. The Comte's letter, though, was written in as dry a tone as if he were telling her about the new furniture in his study. She read the few lines again.

Paris, July 8, 1872

Madame,

Kindly finally return to Paris to assist at the funeral of your husband, who gave his life in the line of duty June 29, 1872, according to a note received from Naval Command this morning. His body is being transferred home and the funeral will take place Thursday next week. It is also imperative that the de Chagny heir be born in Paris.

Adrien Louis Philippe Raoul Pierre Marie Hyppolite, Comte de Chagny

The old man's utter lack of emotions at the death of his son hurt her a lot. What was worse, though, was the cold formality with which he had signed his full name and title, as if she were a complete stranger to him, not his daughter-in-law. This heartless display of contempt was the final straw. Christine had been assaulted by a variety of different feelings at the thought that Raoul was dead and would never come back to her and their child – grief, fear at what might happen now, a feeling that her in-laws would try to raise the child if it were a son, concern about how it might affect her situation if the baby were a girl, guilt for not having been able to make Raoul as happy as she had hoped and for basically having driven him away, towards his death, pain at the thought that she now never would be able to make peace with him, sadness that her baby would never know its father. All these emotions she might have been able to deal with, keeping her composure, but the Comte's coldness was one blow too many for her. The young woman fainted, collapsing like a rag-doll.

Xxxx

Christine was not the only one whose mood did not reflect the bright sunshine and wonderful summer weather at all. Erik was also experiencing a sense of impending doom. Ever since Nadir had told him about the danger Christine was in, because a son of hers would stand between Théophile-Auguste de Chagny and the title, his worry for his beloved had increased considerably. If before he had mostly dreaded to see her unhappy and humiliated by her new family, he was now absolutely certain that something terrible would happen to her sooner or later. He and Nadir were trying their best, taking turns at watching the de Chagny summer house, but they were only two men, and they had to eat and sleep and Nadir had to appear in town at least every now and then, to keep up appearances with the townspeople. Erik therefore lived in constant fear that they might overlook something important, that the one on watch might be in the wrong place at the wrong time, in short, that they would somehow not be able to protect Christine as well as he would want to. They had therefore summoned Nadir's manservant Darius who had so far stayed behind in Paris. Since a former sailor and his nephew did not have servants, Nadir had originally thought it would be better to leave Darius at home, at least for the time being. But under the changed circumstances it seemed as if they could use another pair of hands. Darius had therefore been asked to rejoin his master and was now staying in a little village about an hour from Nadir's hut, supposedly on summer vacation. He kept Nadir's horse and Erik's César at a stable there, regularly riding both horses – to secretly meet either his master or Erik in the forest and discuss the situation with them.

Erik had taken over the night watches around the de Chagny house, for two reasons. First, he felt more comfortable in the dark, and it was safer for him as well, since the chance of him being spotted by anybody was much smaller at night than during the day. Second, he also felt, that if Théophile-Auguste were planning anything, he would not come in full daylight, when the servants might be around and in his way. He would come at night – or send his men at night. Erik therefore thought that Christine was relatively safe during the days, but at great risk as soon as the sun went down. Nothing and nobody would have been able to keep her loyal protector away from the de Chagny property then. Nadir knew that Erik did not just patrol around the estate at night, but that he usually entered the garden and spent the night under Christine's windows, sometimes even on the balcony in front of them, watching over her while she slept, being as near to her as possible, so that he could help her, should the need arise. Since Nadir, too, was convinced that the woman's life might be at risk, he had no objections anymore to Erik's presence in the de Chagny garden.

To the great surprise of all three men, so far nothing had happened, other than the fact that the whole town was now convinced that the Vicomtesse was not carrying a legitimate heir. The child's real father was probably either that Opera monster she had had an affair with before her marriage, or one of the other lovers she had taken on in everybody's opinion, as soon as she had been married to the Vicomte. Erik and Nadir were aware of this public opinion and thought that apparently Théophile-Auguste was not desperate enough yet to resort to a truly criminal, violent action and that he was trying defamation first. In fact, there was a fifty-fifty chance that the child would be a girl. Maybe he would only strike in case the child was a boy and Raoul, for whatever reason, accepted him as his.

Xxxx

Nadir had been standing watch at the de Chagny house in the morning and he had seen the rider wearing the de Chagny livery arrive. He had immediately guessed that something important must have happened which might have an impact on Christine. When he therefore spotted one of the kitchen maids leaving the house with a basket as if she were going to town to the market, he quickly took a shortcut through the woods to make it appear as if he had come from his hut, and made sure to meet her shortly before she reached town.

"Good morning, Jeanne," he greeted the girl friendly. "Going to the market?" He noticed that she was unusually pale and her eyes were red and swollen, as if she had cried. When the normally rather talkative young woman just nodded instead of answering his question, he grew nervous. What was the matter with Jeanne? Was it something personal, or was there a connection between her state of mind and the messenger he had seen arrive at the estate? He had to find out.

"Are you all right, Jeanne? You do not look too good," he tried his luck again. To his surprise, tears started to flow freely now and Jeanne sobbed. "Our dear Vicomte, George says he is dead. George was sent to order the Madame's return to Paris, so that she can be at the funeral."

Nadir stared at her in shock. If Raoul had died without a male heir, Théophile-Auguste would be the new Vicomte. It would therefore be of the utmost importance for this relative to make sure that there was no son. To wait and hope that Christine might give birth to a daughter was a risk, the man in dire need of money would not dare taking. Théophile-Auguste would make sure that the baby would never be born. And if Christine had to go to Paris in her condition - when was she due anyway, he wondered, in five, maybe six weeks? – it would not take much to cause her to go into labor prematurely. The danger Erik's beloved was in, had just grown exponentially. They would have to follow her as closely as possible during her entire journey to Paris and be prepared for anything.

Nadir finally remembered the sobbing girl. "God, that's terrible," he exclaimed. "The poor young lady! Can she even travel to Paris in her condition? And the poor child she is carrying, who will never know its father." Jeanne stopped crying at these words. "Madame fainted when she got the letter. Her conscience, I tell you. After all, it was her who drove him away with her affairs. Who knows who the baby's father is? They say she had a fling with a murderous beast, ugly as hell, before the Vicomte married her." Jeanne seemed to enjoy repeating the gossip she had heard. "As sad as it is that the Vicomte had to die so young, it's probably for the best. That way he will not have to raise the bastard, and he will not have to suffer from her infidelity anymore."

Nadir nodded, as if in agreement. "Yeah," he mumbled, "you have a point there. But if she feels so guilty, will the Vicomtesse travel to Paris? She could use the pregnancy as an excuse, surely?" Jeanne laughed. "If she wants to be disowned and the baby declared a bastard, she can stay here. If she wants to remain a member of the de Chagny family at least for the time being, she has to obey the Comte. Of course, if the baby does not look like the Vicomte at all, not even her presence at the funeral may save her." Nadir was shocked at the way how a simple kitchen maid dared to talk about her mistress, but he did not contradict her. "You are right," he admitted, "might be better for her to go to Paris at once."

They had reached the market by then and Nadir took leave of the girl. He bought a pound of salt at one table to explain his presence at the market, then hurried home to tell Erik. Only when he was halfway home did he realize that he had not asked Jeanne when the funeral would take place, but it was probably safe to assume it would be sometime soon, most likely within the next two weeks. Since the Vicomtesse could not travel too fast in her condition, she would have to leave for Paris soon. It might be a good idea to alert Darius at once and to ask him to move the horses closer to his and Erik's current home, as well as to keep them saddled and ready at all times.

Nadir wondered what Théophile-Auguste would do. Would he hire people to attack the coach, would he sabotage the coach to cause an accident, would he manipulate the terrain somehow to put the carriage at risk? They would have to keep an eye on every little detail, if they were to keep Christine safe. When he arrived at the hut, he found Erik still fast asleep after he had been on watch at the de Chagny manor all night. Since Nadir was not sure when either of them would get a chance to sleep again, he did not wake him, but quickly saddled their pony and decided to inform Darius first. Darius was just as shocked at the news as Nadir, but he promised to immediately get a few items that Nadir thought might be useful, pack the saddlebags and move the horses to a little forest near the de Chagny summer house, where Nadir and Erik would join him with the pony.

Nadir left him to his preparations and hurried home to inform Erik. He was a bit worried, how the latter would react to the news of the Vicomte's death. Only now that he had done all he could to make sure they would be able to protect the young widow during her journey to Paris, did Nadir realize, that Raoul's death not only meant that his wife and unborn child were in great danger, it also meant that Christine was free again. Would this fact influence Erik's behavior towards her? Would it re-awake hope in Erik's heart and, given an opportunity, would he pursue her now? Or would he feel sorry for her, respect her grief and wait patiently, if her heart would ever be ready for a new relationship? Nadir was convinced that Christine would now need understanding and friendship more than a passionate declaration of love. Would Erik see things the same way?

Nadir need not have worried. Erik's love for Christine proved to be stronger and deeper than even Nadir had thought, for once Nadir had told him everything, Erik's reaction was that of compassion for Christine and of worry for her, how she would deal with the loss of the man she loved. His own wishes and desires suddenly seemed irrelevant compared to the pain she must feel. He knew only too well, what it meant to lose a loved one. After all, the pain of having lost Christine had very nearly killed him the previous year, and she had not even died then, there had still been a small chance for him to at least see her again one day. Christine had no such hope, Raoul was gone forever. Erik's heart went out to his beloved, and he prayed with all his heart that she would be strong enough to survive this blow.


	5. Journey

Newsflash: I don't own anything or anybody, sadly.

Thank you for sticking with me and with this story and my previous ones. Many people are still reading "You Are Not Alone" though it's been finished for quite a while, and this one is taking off nicely as well. That does not mean you should stop reviewing, though! I still like to hear from you.

This chapter was boring to write - I hate action sequences, but... wait till you reach the end of this chapter: fluff alert!

BTW, what do you think, will Christine have a boy or a girl? I know what it's going to be, but I won't tell you - yet. And have you all noticed, who she has been thinking of so far - and who she hasn't been thinking of? Well... this is going to change. Very soon. We are approaching the good stuff!

Chapter 4 – Journey

The little de Chagny-household was in chaos. The news about the Vicomte's demise had spread like wildfire among the servants. He had been well-liked and his unexpected death had deeply saddened his loyal staff. More than one, though, thought that it might have been better, if instead of their master this poor excuse of a Vicomtesse had passed away. The woman had fainted at the news, yes, but was it more grief or guilt what had caused her to collapse? She had come to a few minutes later, but it turned out that she was ill prepared for the situation. Most obviously she had no idea how to make her employees do their work despite their heartache.

She had given orders to change some of her dark clothes so that they could pass for mourning attire, e.g. by removing cream-colored lace trimmings from a black silk blouse, and she had asked to pack her bags, so that she could depart for Paris the next morning. She had also decided not to take a maid with her – something the servants interpreted as total unawareness of what her position required. The truth was, Christine wanted to be alone. She did not want anybody in the coach with her. She knew it was unusual for a noblewoman not to bring a huge staff, but she had a feeling as if she would not be a noblewoman much longer and as if her father-in-law would criticize her no matter what, so she decided to do as she pleased.

Christine lay on her bed, thinking of Raoul and caressing her belly, which still held her fretfully kicking baby. Did the little one inside her sense that something was wrong? A wave of tenderness washed through her when she thought about the poor little creature who would never know its father. She could not imagine what life without a father might be like, she had loved hers so much that his death had thrown her into serious depression. Her baby would only have her. Of course there were Raoul's relatives, but Christine did not expect them to provide her child with the emotional warmth he or she would need in order to develop into a decent, caring person. That would be her job, and hers alone.

Of course, things would be easier if her baby was a daughter. The de Chagnys would probably not be too interested in a girl and therefore might let her raise her. Christine was also fairly confident that she could be a good role-model for a daughter, while she had the feeling that a boy might need some male guidance in addition to a mother's unconditional love. A boy would also be the new Vicomte, and thus the family would want a lot more influence in his education than she would like. She wondered, if the child was a boy, what would Raoul have wanted for him? How would he have wanted his son to grow up? Would he have preferred the strict, cold drill he himself had been subjected to or a less organized freedom as he had enjoyed during those few months that they had known each other as children? Deep down she knew that Raoul had been happy then, when they had played on the beach together, listened to her father playing the violin and read those dark stories from the North together. She was fairly certain he would want that kind of childhood for their offspring and she was determined to make sure her baby would get that, she would fight for the right to raise her child in such a way, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Xxx

The next morning, the large de Chagny coach suited for overland travel stood in front of the summer house, ready to leave for Paris. The heavily pregnant, deathly pale young widow with the swollen red eyes and her somber black clothes had never looked more fragile than when she left this house, where she once had been happy with her unborn child's father. She did not know when she would be allowed to come back – if ever. She only knew that with this place that held so many fond memories from the early months of her marriage, she lost yet another facet of that dream of happiness she had hoped to find with her childhood sweetheart. Their dream had not survived in the reality of day to day life, their happiness had not lasted. Now Raoul was gone, and all she had left of him and of their dream was her unborn child.

Christine quickly climbed into the carriage. She did not want her servants to see her that vulnerable. She needed to be alone with her pain, her regrets and her problems. She sat down and put her hand protectively on her belly. She could feel her child move. It would not be long now, in a few weeks she would have somebody to love again.

The carriage slowly started to move. One last look back at the house that had been her home for the past few months, then the pale young woman fell back into her seat and tried to relax. The poor condition of the roads in the countryside turned the journey into a rather bumpy ride, though, which caused Christine a lot of discomfort. She knew they would have to stop quite often so she could rest. It was certainly not a good idea to make that journey in her condition, but her father-in-law's order had not given her much choice in that matter. She also had to admit to herself, that she would never be able to forgive herself if she did not at least attend Raoul's funeral. She did feel like she had let him down somehow, though it was not exactly her fault that things had turned so bad between them, but once she had promised in front of an altar to love him and to cherish him in good times and in bad times, and somehow she felt that she should have tried harder, that Raoul and his family were not the only ones to blame that her marriage had failed. But at least she would do her duty till the very end, she would attend Raoul's funeral and say her good-bye to him and tell him once more that she loved him. For despite everything, he had been her dear friend and her childhood sweetheart.

Xxx

Wrapped in his black cloak and hidden in the shadows of several huge old trees Erik watched Christine's departure. He had inspected the coach during the night and he was certain that nobody had had a chance to manipulate it since. He had also watched the coach and the horses being readied and he therefore knew that there had been no foul play in this regard. Either Théophile-Auguste would sabotage the vehicle or the horses at a later time, during one of Christine's stops, or he was planning something else, an attack maybe, or a trap of some sort. Erik knew that he and his two friends would have to be very careful and pay attention to even the tiniest detail.

Erik was about to sneak out of the de Chagny garden when Christine left the house and walked towards the coach. Erik's heart ached with compassion. How broken and hurt she looked. Her face was probably at least as pale as his used to be when he lived underground and only left his home at night. Her eyes held so much sorrow, that it hurt Erik to watch. From the pain at the bottom of her eyes he clearly understood how much her husband must have meant to her despite everything, how much this loss had affected her. Why did this revelation hurt so much? Was it only because he felt sorry for her? Or did it give him a feeling of hopelessness, the certainty that she was lost to him forever, that she would not want him even now? He sighed. He understood that no woman could love a freak like him, but in his dreams she would at least allow him to be near her, to care for her and to make life easier for her. He looked at her again. She had one arm wrapped around her belly, as if she were trying to comfort her unborn baby. He smiled. She would be a good mother. She was warm and caring and compassionate. And even though it still hurt to see her pregnant with another man's child, he was now happy for her that she would have this child, that her husband and their love would live on in her baby. At least his Christine would not be completely alone.

Xxx

Erik, Nadir and Darius had planned carefully how they could best protect Christine on her way to Paris. Since they did not know what Théophile-Auguste was up to, they had to check out the way ahead, looking for possible traps, but they must also keep an eye on the way behind the carriage and the sides – since attackers might come from either of these directions as well. It was also important to make sure Christine's coachman did not realize that he was being followed by them, since that might cause him to panic and lead to an accident. The three men had therefore developed an elaborate scheme, where they were changing positions, and eventually horses, to keep up the impression as long as possible that the riders that the coachman might see from time to time were different people and not connected at all. Since they did not know when or where Théophile-Auguste would strike and how many people he had employed along the way to Paris, they could not trust anybody at the inns where Christine would rest and where they would also have to be at hand, in case somebody was planning to sabotage the carriage, they had decided to only communicate in Persian whenever they wanted to discuss their current mission. That way they could be certain that they could not be overheard by one of de Chagny's men.

The first day of the journey passed without any major incident, though Christine did not make too much way. The roads were in poor condition that far from the capital, so the carriage could not go very fast, and the pregnant young woman had to stop three times on the way to rest for about an hour. When Christine asked her coachman to stop at an inn for the night, the three men put up their camp nearby. As long as there still was daylight, Nadir and Darius took turns watching the inn, but once it got dark, Erik once again inspected the carriage for any signs of sabotage, then stood guard under the windows of the woman, who had hurt him so badly, but whom he could not stop loving.

The night passed without an incident, and the next morning Christine continued on her way to Paris. Her three secret guards were tense. This was probably the most dangerous part of the journey. Yesterday they had still been relatively close to the summer house, the coachman would have been familiar with people and facilities, if anything had happened there, help might have been easier to find than farther away, where Christine and her driver were strangers and did not know the circumstances that well. Tomorrow, on the other hand, they would get closer to Paris and the streets would be busier, thus the risk greater for any attackers or for anybody laying a trap. It was therefore almost certain that if anything would happen at all, it had to be today.

The morning was uneventful. Since the weather was just as warm and sunny as it had been the past few weeks, they passed several fields where people were working, they saw farmers picking fruit in their gardens, shepherds leading their animals, men making hay, and women doing their laundry in a small local pond. Of course it was possible that Théophile-Auguste had hired some of these people or that his men were lining the way in disguise, but it was unfortunately impossible to check out all these people to find out if they were a possible threat to Christine or not. This uncertainty made Erik rather nervous, but he understood that there was nothing he could do about this situation. They simply had to be even more vigilant, whenever the carriage approached such a group.

In the late morning, there was a lengthy stretch of way with no villages or at least houses, where the carriage could stop for a short rest. First, the road lead through open land, fields and meadows, then the carriage had to pass through a little wood which lined a small rivulet. A one point the road crossed the water over a narrow wooden bridge. On the other side of the bridge, there was more open land. A few men were working in a meadow there, obviously making hay. Christine's driver slowed down his horses, when he approached the bridge, since the narrow passage required careful maneuvering. He had reached about the middle of the bridge, when one of the farmers in the nearby meadow suddenly fired a pistol. The horses panicked, one of them tried to escape away from where the detonation had occurred. It broke through the bridge's low railing and jumped into the water, thus causing the carriage to almost follow it down. The fact that the other horse was trying to run straight ahead, was the only reason why the carriage stayed on the bridge, though one wheel was dangling over the edge, ready to follow the horse, which had obviously hurt itself when it jumped into the brook. The coachman had not been prepared for this, and when the two horses started to panic, the sudden movement had thrown him off his seat. He had landed on the broken railing and seemed to be unconscious from the impact.

The four men in the field were all running towards the carriage now, laughing and shouting, obviously eager to finish what they had started. To their utter shock, three men on horses suddenly arrived from different directions and were closing in on them. Darius had been ahead. They had not seen him since he had crossed the rivulet on his pony a bit upstream from their position. Nadir had been checking the area downstream trying to protect the other flank, while Erik had been the rear guard. When they had heard the pistol go off, they had all three hurried to reach the carriage. They arrived almost at the same time at the bridge. Nadir screamed to Erik in Persian to see to the Vicomtesse, to get her out of the carriage which was precariously leaning on the railing, about to fall down. He and Darius would take care of the four attackers and see, if anything could be done for the injured coachman. Erik should take Christine to a barn which they could see in the distance, they would follow as soon as they had finished here. Erik nodded, directing his horse César towards the carriage.

Xxx

Christine had been exhausted and in dire need of some rest when the attack occurred. She had been deep in thoughts, when she heard the gunshot and the carriage suddenly jerked sideways and seemed to fall. She screamed in terror. What was happening? Did she dare look? The carriage was now leaning heavily to one side and she had the feeling as if it might crash into the water any moment. She called for her coachman, but received no answer. Was he too busy dealing with the situation or was he not able to answer her anymore because he was hurt – or dead? Who had fired the shot? Why? Where were they anyway? What if the carriage was damaged – or the coachman was injured, or one of the horses? What would become of her, here in the middle of nowhere?

She grabbed her belly, trying to comfort her baby. The little one was just as much at risk as she was. She heard food steps as if several people were running towards the carriage, but to her terror the approaching men were laughing, saying how easy this had been, and that they had obviously already gotten rid of the coachman and the little wannabe-noblewoman was now at their mercy. Christine was in shock. Obviously this had been a deliberate attack on her, probably organized by some of her many enemies in society. It was clear that she would not stand a chance against them. Not her and not her baby. She caressed her belly. "I am so sorry, little one. I was so looking forward to meeting you, now it seems as if this will never happen," she sighed, tears in her eyes.

She barely noticed the arrival of the three men on horseback, who were circling in on her attackers. She was beyond caring, she had reached a state of catatonia, where she had shut herself off from the world around her. She was only paying attention to her unborn baby, caressing her belly and telling the child how much she loved it. Outside somebody screamed something in a language she did not understand. She did not care. She was certain this was the end.

Somebody seemed to open the door of the carriage. Christine shrieked in panic as two arms reached for her. Instinctively she began to struggle, fighting off the unknown person, who was surely one of her attackers, when suddenly this person whispered to her: "Do not fight me, Christine, I am trying to get you out of here safely. Please trust me, just once." Christine's heart almost stopped. She knew this voice, she would have recognized it anywhere. She had not heard this voice in almost a year and a half, and she had not expected ever to hear it again. But she knew with absolute certainty, that she could trust the owner of this voice. She did not fight him any longer and relaxed into the strong arms that picked her up as if she were a feather. She molded herself against his chest, and looked up at him. She knew, the arms that held her were the safest place in the world for her. A tiny smile played across her haggard features, and she whispered "Angel!" Then she gave in to exhaustion and lost consciousness.


	6. Reunion

New chapter - and it's getting a bit fluffy, since our not-yet couple is spending some quality time together. Sorry, Nadir-fans, he and the attackers will have to wait till the next chapter Ha, and I already know exactly what Erik will say, once he sees the baby for the first time, but the baby is not due for another month or so...

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody, sadly. I do love all my loyal readers and reviewers, though, it does mean a lot to me that you are all following my stories! So, on to the new chapter - let the fluff begin! ;-)

Chapter 5 – Reunion

Erik safely cradled Christine in his right arm. Holding César's reins in his left hand, he turned his horse around and regained the wood. In order to keep Christine safe, he had to make sure that they could not be traced too easily and therefore he used every trick he knew to shake off potential pursuers. As soon as he reached rocky territory where the horse would leave no hoof prints, he forced César into the water, riding in the brook for half a mile, which would confuse dogs, should Théophile-Auguste decide to use those to find the missing Vicomtesse. Erik then left the rivulet and made his way towards the barn they had seen from the scene of the attack and where Nadir had told him to wait for him and Darius.

At first Erik was concentrating exclusively on getting away from the attackers as quickly as possible and on getting his beloved Christine out of harm's way. But once he and Christine were out of immediate danger, realization of what had just happened hit him, and a wave of happiness he had never expected to feel again, washed through him. He gazed down at the unconscious woman in wonder. Was he dreaming or was he really holding Christine in his arms once again? As incredible as it seemed, she was really there, he could feel her body against his, and he could even sense her heartbeat, but the greatest miracle of all was that she had recognized him and that she had not been scared by his presence. She had even smiled at him and had called him "Angel", as she used to do, before the Vicomte had shattered Erik's dreams of finding happiness with Christine. That tiny smile of recognition had warmed Erik's heart in a way he had never before experienced, and had filled him with hope that maybe Christine could forgive him and grant him her friendship once again. He was not hoping for love anymore. He understood now that it had been foolish to expect a young, beautiful, talented girl like Christine to fall for an ugly, much older madman with a criminal past like him. He would content himself with her friendship. Maybe, if he managed not to frighten her again, he could win back her trust and she would allow him to see her every now and then.

Erik was still thinking how wonderful life could be if he had Christine's friendship again, when they reached the barn. He slid off the horse carefully, not to harm the still unconscious woman in his arms. He carried her into the building and looked around. Obviously the farmers from a nearby village used this barn for storage of hay and straw. He smiled, his Christine would not have to rest on the hard floor. Putting Christine down on her own feet, his right arm protectively wrapped around her waist to support her, he turned towards his loyal horse César, who had followed him inside. With his free left hand he managed to untie his cloak, which he had rolled up and attached to the saddle. He then threw the cloak on a heap of hay to make a comfortable bed for Christine and gently laid her down on top of it. Since she was still unconscious, he pulled a flask of water out of one of his saddlebags and sprinkled her face with the clear liquid. As Christine began to stir, Erik rose to his feet and stepped to the side. He didn't want to seem too imposing, he wanted her to understand that he had changed and was now willing to grant her her space. Then he watched as she slowly opened her eyes and he waited nervously for her reaction.

Xxx

Christine felt drowsy. She remembered the carriage, having been tired and in great need of rest with no village or inn in sight, and then – memory of the attack returned and she suddenly was wide awake. Then there had been a detonation like a gunshot, and the horses had gone crazy, and the carriage had almost fallen into the water, she had panicked … and then … somebody had tried to pull her out of the carriage and she had been so scared and had fought him… she closed her eyes again to clear her mind. She must have been dreaming, for she had imagined being rescued by the one person she had always turned to when she needed help as a child, the one person, who had always been there for her, consoling her, comforting her, giving her advice. But he could not have been here, for he was dead. He had perished in the fire at the Opera Populaire, the fire he himself had started by dropping the chandelier on the audience. Or maybe he had been hunted down by the mob. She shuddered. She had not thought of this night for over a year, it had been too painful. She knew that what had happened then had been her fault. She felt guilty for having broken her teacher's heart and thus caused his fragile psyche to shatter and his mind to turn to madness. She had ultimately caused his downfall and his death. Since her feeling of guilt had been overwhelming, her mind had shut off that part of her brain which contained the memories of this terrible night. It had been a mechanism of protection. Why, oh why, was she suddenly remembering all this? What had triggered her memory? Why had she imagined her Angel coming to her rescue? Had it been wishful thinking? Or had her mind instinctively cried out to him for help, to him who – despite all the lies that had been between them - had never let her down? Tears welled in her eyes. There was no use calling to him for help now. Even if he were not dead, he would not want anything to do with her anymore, for she had hurt him too badly. She remembered his tear-streaked face only too well, when she had returned the ring to him that night. He had been heart-broken, devastated. Even if he lived, she could never hope that he would one day forgive her.

When she felt her baby kick her, Christine's thoughts returned to her current situation. Somebody must have gotten her out of the carriage before that vehicle had crashed into the water and brought her here. Wherever she was right now. She opened her eyes again and looked around. She was obviously in some kind of barn, there was only one tiny window which did not let in much light, but she could discern hay and straw lying around. She herself seemed to lie on a thick layer of hay, but there was something between her and the hay, some fabric, maybe a blanket? She inspected it more closely and gasped. This could not be. She was obviously still dreaming. The fabric on which she was lying looked like one of the cloaks her Angel used to wear. She looked around and finally she saw him. To her right, half-hidden in the shadows, stood a tall, thin man. He had his face half averted from her, but there was no doubt in her anymore as to his identity. The sudden joy was almost too much for her. She had no idea how he could still be alive, how he happened to be here, and why he, of all people, would have come to her rescue, but her Angel was most definitely there, watching over her again, as he had always done.

Christine was deeply touched. After all the pain she had caused him, he had come to her rescue. He still cared for her and looked after her, despite her betrayal. She felt as if she had finally found home. Whenever she had been in trouble her Angel had helped her. He would help her this time as well. Nothing had been able to change that, not his heartbreak, not her marriage to another man, not their long separation. He had already rescued her – and in doing so probably had saved her baby's life as well. He would help her further. A radiant smile brightened Christine's haggard features. She extended her arms towards her savior and whispered "Angel!"

Erik slowly turned towards her. He still could not believe that his beloved Christine would not be frightened by his presence. Did she not know what he was capable of? Had she not seen him at his worst that night so many months ago? He hesitantly stepped a bit closer.

Christine smiled at him. She felt like God had granted her a miracle. Her Angel was alive! However badly she had hurt him, at least she was not guilty of his death, and she still had his friendship. He was much thinner than she remembered him, though, as if he had been ill, but he was muscular and strong, and the uncovered part of his face showed a slightly healthier color than it used to. He obviously was not spending his life underground anymore.

"Angel," she repeated, "come here. Please!" Erik rushed to her side and sat down next to her again. "Christine, are you all right?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern. "How is your baby?" She smiled at him, grasping his hand with both of hers. She had to touch him, to convince herself that he was real, that he was still alive. "You saved us. You saved both our lives, Angel," she whispered, caressing Erik's hand. "I can never thank you enough for keeping us both safe. Oh Angel, I hurt you so badly, and you still protect me as you always did," she continued. "I do not deserve your loyalty and friendship." Erik was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. He did not want to discuss the past right now. For whatever Christine seemed to think, all that had happened then had been his fault.

He looked at Christine, at her smiling face. How on earth could she be glad to see him again, after all he had done to her? He had lied to her, tried to manipulate her, even abducted her, threatened her fiancé and tried to force her to marry him, yet here she was, smiling at him, holding his hand and thanking him for rescuing her. Oh, how pretty she was, her beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears, her dark curls framing her pale face. How he ached to take her into his arms and to gently rock her and tell her not to fear anything anymore, that he would protect her and be there for her always, because no matter what had happened between them, his love for her had only grown and deepened. But Erik had learned his lesson. He was not going to repeat his previous mistakes. He would not drive Christine away again with his passion and his desire. He wanted her friendship. He needed her friendship, the chance to see her on a fairly regular basis and a certain right to spoil her. Now that she had entered his life again, he would do his best not to lose her again.

He changed the subject. "Are you certain, your baby is fine?" he asked. He did not really care about the Vicomte's brat, the mere thought of what had to have happened between de Chagny and Christine for her to be with child made him sick with jealousy, but he knew that Christine was looking forward to the baby, and he was also aware, that should something be wrong with the little one due to the attack she had been through, Christine's life would be in danger as well. Christine nodded, smiling. "My little one is fine. It is kicking me quite strongly," she told him. "Here, feel for yourself!" She suddenly placed Erik's hand, which she still had been holding, on her belly, so that he could feel the baby's movements. Erik stiffened. He would never have dared touching her in such an intimate way, and she not only allowed it, she almost forced him to do it! Did she not know what she was doing? Did she not realize what kind of desires she was reawakening in him with such an open display of intimacy? Did she not realize how much it cost him not to take her into his arms and kiss her as passionately as she had kissed him that night?

Erik pulled his hand from her belly and stood. Christine suddenly realized her fault. She felt awkward. How could she have forgotten? For her, he had always been her Angel, her teacher, her best friend. But he was not really an angel. He was a man, a real flesh and blood person. And he was in love with her. By allowing him to touch her belly, she had basically encouraged him, given him permission to indulge in intimacies. She blushed. What would he think of her? He had done what every gentleman would do – he had broken the physical contact and put some distance between them. Christine glanced at him. She saw his jaw clench and realized that he was trying hard to compose himself.

"I am sorry, Angel," she murmured miserably. "I… I do not know what I was thinking. I am aware that my behavior was very inappropriate. Please forgive me for causing you discomfort." Her contrite tone helped Erik regain his composure. He remembered that he had planned not to frighten her anymore with the intensity of his love and passion for her. He nodded quietly. "You are tired," he said, using her exhaustion to explain away her behavior. "You need rest. Try to sleep, Christine." Christine suddenly remembered how tired she was. Sleep definitely seemed like a good idea. She lay down comfortably on his cloak. Then she looked up at her Angel. "Will you sing for me?" she asked him. Erik gasped. That request was about the last thing he had expected from her. "I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I am out of practice. I have not sung since…" He did not finish the sentence. Christine understood him anyway. Since "Don Juan Triumphant". She looked up at him. "Me neither," she whispered. "Not since that night."

She suddenly realized that she had missed music in her life with Raoul, but at first she had been too traumatized to sing, and then she had tried to block any memory of her Angel from her mind, and since music would have brought back those memories she had never again considered singing. Of course it would not have been appropriate for a Vicomtesse anyway.

But she had been mistaken and there was no need to block those memories anymore. Her Angel was not dead, and he apparently had forgiven her. He was back in her life, protecting her, watching over her. To her utter surprise she had to admit to herself that she had missed him just as much as she had missed music. She wondered, would her life as a Vicomtesse have been easier for her, if she had known he was alive, if she could have seen him every now and then? She suddenly had a feeling that he would have understood her problems, that with a reliable, trusted friend like him, she might not have taken the nobility's attitude towards her quite as hard. If she had known he was alive, she also would not have given up on music. But it was not too late yet, she could take up music again. After all, she had her teacher back.

She looked up at Erik. "Please, Angel," she pleaded. "I have missed music so much. I promise, I will be good and rest, if you sing for me." Another thought struck her. "And for my baby. Imagine this, child of an opera diva and grand-child of a famous violinist, and during the eight months of my pregnancy so far, the little one has not yet been exposed to any music!" Erik had to smile. That was indeed atrocious. As a descendant of the Daaé-family Christine's child would probably inherit some understanding of music and interest in it. To withhold music from a music-lover was pretty cruel in Erik's opinion. Music had always been a part of him, with his music he could express all his feelings, music helped him to deal with his anger, with his unfulfilled passion and desire, music had been his way of expressing his love and tenderness to Christine. But he had had no desire for music since that night. Of course, at first he had been far too ill to think of music, but even once he had recovered, he had not touched an instrument or sung one single note. Without his muse, music had lost its appeal. But Christine was back in his life, and she wanted him to sing for her, and suddenly he realized, that he had missed music almost as much as he had missed her.

He was out of practice, of course, but he was not going to sing any technically challenging arias, and he could certainly master a simple lullaby. Erik sat down next to Christine. A rare smile played across the unmasked part of his face. "Then it is about time, your baby gets introduced to music," he said. Then he began to sing, at first a bit uncertain, but gaining more and more confidence. His voice had not lost any of its qualities despite his lack of training. Christine recognized the song. It was a simple Swedish folk-song, that she particularly loved and that he had sung for her often when she was still a little girl, long before he had started training her own voice, and long before he had fallen in love with her. She understood his intention. By choosing this particular song, he was trying to tell her that things between them could once again be as they had been those many years ago, with him to watch over her, as her friend and protector, her Angel of Music, her guide and guardian. Christine relaxed. She had not felt so safe and protected in a long time. She closed her eyes and finally fell asleep.


	7. Planning

Another update! I don't know yet when the next chapter will be up, since I am on vacation right now. I did bring my laptop, but I will probably want to do a few things other than write a new chapter, so please bear with me and be patient. There will eventually be another update, it just might take a bit more than a week. Or maybe two weeks.

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody, you know that by now. And I am sooo happy about all the positive reviews I get, and about those of you that put my story on alert or add it to their favorites! Please don't stop!

And Ireland Savage, no, things won't stay that awkward between them, but they have all the time in the world. Raoul just died, they therefore will have to wait at least a full year before they can get married anyway. So no hurry there.

And Fairyteyla, I agree with you, fics often concentrate on how much poor Erik suffers when he loses Christine. I do think things can't have been too easy for Christine either, especially considering the reputation singers and dancers had at that time (think Philippe and Sorelli in the book!) and the resulting huge social gap between her and Raoul. But rest assured, Erik has been through hell and back as well, we'll get to the details soon.

Chapter 6 – Planning

An hour later Nadir arrived. He cautiously entered the barn, not to alarm Erik. This precaution was not really necessary, since Erik had stood watch at the little window, keeping an eye on the surroundings. As hard as it was for him to leave Christine's side once she was asleep, he felt that her safety had to be his first priority. He only allowed himself a furtive glance at her every now and then, to remind himself that he had not been dreaming, that his beloved Christine was once again in his care, and that she had treated him like a friend – which was much, much more than he had ever hoped for.

Erik saw Nadir approaching – alone – and was wondering what had happened to Darius and the four attackers, as well as Christine's coachman. He went to the door and opened it, showing to Nadir that the barn was safe to enter. Nadir brought his horse inside as well and they closed the door again, so that they could not be spotted from outside. "Shh," Erik silenced Nadir, pointing at Christine's sleeping form. "Christine is asleep, don't wake her. She needs the rest after all she has been through." Nadir nodded in understanding, then asked: "How is she? Has she suffered any injuries during the attack? Is everything fine with the baby? She is not going into premature labor, or is she?" Erik shook his head. "No, thank God, the baby seems to be fine. It is kicking her, that's all. But I would not want to move her from here before tomorrow morning, just to be on the safe side."

Nadir smiled. He had had the same idea. "That's exactly what I thought, Erik," he grinned. "That's why I left Darius with the four attackers, after we captured them. We have bound, gagged and blindfolded them, and Darius is watching them at a very remote place in the woods, where nobody will pass by for the rest of the day. It took us a while to round them up, but since we were on horseback and they were on their own feet, we finally managed to catch them all. The coachman, unfortunately, was beyond help. He had broken his spine when he landed on the bridge's railing. If somebody passes by the scene of the attack, they will think that, for some reason or another, the carriage had an accident, the driver died, and the passenger was probably thrown into the water and carried away by it. They may or may not look for the passenger. If Monsieur Théophile-Auguste is getting impatient, because his henchmen have not reported back to him yet, and goes to look for himself, all he will find is an injured horse in the water, another horse on the bridge, a dead coachman, and a carriage that's precariously dangling from the bridge's railing – or maybe it has crashed into the water by now – but not a trace of the Vicomtesse." He grinned broadly. "I would love to see his face, when he thinks she is gone, probably drowned in that little rivulet!"

Erik nodded nervously. "Yes, that will certainly be a bad surprise for him," he mumbled. "But what is Darius going to do about the attackers? He cannot guard them forever!" Nadir chuckled. "You will love this, Erik. Once it gets dark, he will move them again – blindfolded, with no sense of orientation – and he will leave them at four different places, bound, gagged and blindfolded – and tied to a tree. They will eventually be able to free themselves, but not before tomorrow morning at the earliest, Darius will make sure the knots will hold at least that long, and once they are free, they will have to find their way back on their own, which will take them a while as well, since they will have to figure out first, where they are. We should be safe until they reach their master Théophile-Auguste and tell them their story. He probably won't know before then that Christine had some help and safely escaped the ambush. As long as we leave here tomorrow morning, we should therefore be fine."

Erik thanked his friend for these clever arrangements, when Nadir curiously glanced at the sleeping Vicomtesse. She seemed comfortable enough in Erik's presence since she had fallen asleep. "So, Erik," he asked. "How did it go with her? Did she recognize you? How did she react to you?" Erik beamed. Nadir could not remember when he had last seen his friend so happy. Erik was positively radiant with joy. "Nadir, you cannot begin to imagine, what happened. I still feel like I am dreaming all this. She recognized me the moment I pulled her out of the carriage. She had been scared the moment before, because of the attack and the danger she was in, but as soon as she realized it was me, she relaxed visibly, smiled at me and called me "Angel". She then passed out. I brought her here safely, and once I had sprayed her face with some cold water to wake her up, she thanked me, and she was not afraid of me at all. She asked me to sit next to her, she took my hand in hers, and..." Erik blushed. He'd rather not tell Nadir that she had let him touch her belly to feel the child's movements. That was too private an experience, a precious moment that belonged only to him and Christine. "She asked me to sing her to sleep," he continued his sentence instead.

Nadir was surprised. He had hoped that Christine would trust Erik despite everything that had happened between the two of them. Since she did not know either him or Darius, sending Erik to rescue her had been the most logical thing to do, since at least she knew him. There was a slim chance that she would remember the friendship she and Erik had shared for so many years and that she would not panic at his unexpected appearance. Apparently, she had not only gladly accepted Erik's help, but seemed to have tried to rekindle their old friendship. He was happy for his friend. He knew how much Erik hoped that Christine would forgive him and that she would allow him back into her life. Apparently, Christine was willing to do just that.

Christine stirred. Although the two men had spoken quietly, their conversation had woken her up. She was still very much on edge after the attack, and therefore oversensitive to everything around her. She sat up. "Angel?" she asked, "what is going on?" Erik rushed to her side again. "Shh, Christine, don't worry," he comforted her. "It's just my friend Nadir, who has helped me rescue you. He and his servant Darius have taken care of your attackers. Nadir was just telling me everything. We are safe here, until at least tomorrow morning, so calm down. Try to relax, think of your baby." Nadir could not believe his ears. Never before had he heard Erik speak like that. His friend's voice expressed so much concern, tenderness, love and reassurance. Erik's love for the poor, lonely woman certainly brought his friend's best qualities to the surface.

Christine stared at Erik in surprise. Her Angel had a friend? He had never mentioned that. What else was there about him, she did not know yet? She did not have much time to wonder, since Nadir's next question revealed yet another detail, she had not been aware of so far. "Erik, are you going to introduce me to the lady?" the former Daroga asked politely. Christine shook her head. She could not believe it. She had never bothered to ask her Angel about his name! That should have been the first thing for her to do, once he told her that he was a human being, not some divine entity. "Erik?" she asked, feeling incredibly stupid. "Oh Angel, forgive me, I never bothered to ask you your name! How inconsiderate of me!" Erik smiled. It only now occurred to him that he had never properly introduced himself to her. "Don't feel bad about it, Christine," he replied. "I should have told you." Then he pointed to Nadir. "Christine, this is my good old friend Nadir Khan. He is a Persian by birth, but he moved to Paris a while ago, and probably will stay in France for the rest of his life. Nadir, this is my former student, Madame Christine de Chagny, née Daaé, the famous opera-diva." Christine sighed. "Oh Angel... I mean, Erik, you know that I am not a diva any longer."

Nadir bowed before Christine. "Enchanté, Madame. Erik has told me a lot about you and I am happy to finally meet you in person, though I would have hoped to do so under different circumstances."

Christine's face fell. She remembered the incident on the bridge. "How come you were there to rescue me?" she asked the two men. A memory of her attackers yelling how easy this had been and that the Vicomtesse was at their mercy now, suddenly passed through her mind. They had known exactly who she was. They had not been simple thieves, trying to rob a rich woman, they had intended to harm her personally. "Did you know I was in danger, were you following me?" Erik nodded. "We have known for some time that," he swallowed, at the last moment suppressing an expletive he had been about to use about her dead husband. "That the Vicomte had rejoined the Navy, thus leaving you alone and unprotected in your current condition." He stopped, blushing slightly. Pregnancies were not a topic he was familiar with. He was certain that there would have been a more delicate way of referring to her impending motherhood, but he simply was at a loss of what to say. "We also knew that your husband's cousin, the one who would inherit the title should the Vicomte pass away without leaving a son, was in dire need of money. He is indebted pretty much everywhere, and is very interested in making sure that your husband will not have a male heir." Christine gasped. That explained everything. Théophile-Auguste's visit, his rudeness towards her, his attempts to cast a doubt on the legitimacy of her baby, the attackers' screams that this had been easy, which clearly proved that she had been targeted by somebody. Théophile-Auguste was the only one that would profit from her demise – or at least from her baby's demise, should she go into premature labor and thus give birth to a baby that would be too weak to live.

"But how did you know he would strike right now?" she asked, looking up at Erik. "Nadir and I have been staying at the little town next to the de Chagny-summer residence since late February," he explained. "We have been keeping an eye on you. When this relative showed up a few weeks ago, we knew that the situation was getting bad. He obviously either wanted to discredit you so that the baby would not be accepted as a de Chagny." Erik grasped Christine's hand. "Don't worry, Christine, nobody who knows you, would think such a thing of you. I know that you would not betray the man you love." How much it hurt to remind himself of the fact that she had loved her now dead husband, probably still loved him. But Erik remembered that all this must be a shock to her and that she needed to be comforted. He therefore tried his best to be supportive of her.

Christine nodded. She knew exactly what Erik was hinting at. She had experienced Théophile-Auguste's open hostility and insinuations first hand. "When news of your husband's death arrived," Erik felt like a brute to remind Christine of this sad occurrence. "I am sorry," he interrupted himself. "I did not want to reopen any wounds. You must miss him so badly. My sincerest condolences." He looked at her contritely. Christine was moved. She knew that there had been no love lost between Raoul and her Angel, and she suspected that Raoul had been secretly relieved that the Opera Ghost had been declared dead after the fire which destroyed the Opera. But Erik, who had had so much more reason to hate Raoul, offered her his condolences. Erik, whom she once had told that his soul was distorted. She felt bad about those words now. She grasped for his hand. "Erik," she whispered, "no – Angel – for you are my angel and savior. I once told you that distortion lies within your soul. I was wrong. Your soul is beautiful and good. I realize that now." Erik blushed. He did not know what to say. He felt like a dying man who had suddenly been given life again. Long-forgotten dreams and hopes re-awoke in his heart. If he was patient and willing to give her all the time in the world – would she be able to learn to appreciate his love?

Nadir observed the two nervously. He saw how Christine's words affected Erik. Of course, there was the chance that she might one day turn her heart to his friend. Erik's marred features probably would not matter that much anymore, especially after all the negative experiences she had made with the pretty boy she had originally chosen. But there was also the possibility that she was acting on her current feeling of gratitude towards Erik, and that she would never be able to return Erik's feelings the way his friend wanted her to. If Erik got his hopes up and she were to reject him again... Nadir did not want to imagine how Erik would react. He had just managed to get Erik interested in life again. He would not allow this woman to destroy his friend a second time. He considered talking to her later.

He cleared his throat to break the slightly awkward moment. "Anyway, Madame, as Erik just mentioned, when this sorry excuse of a relative of yours learned that your husband had passed away, we knew that the only thing keeping him from inheriting the title was your baby – if it were a boy. Considering his financial situation, it was imperative for him to be officially acknowledged as the new Vicomte. He therefore could not risk waiting for the birth of your baby. He had to make sure that his cousin would leave no heir. We therefore knew you were in danger and did our best to protect you."

Christine smiled at both men. "Thank you so much. Without the two of you and your servant I would most certainly have died. At the very least, my baby would have died. They would probably have made sure I would go into labor and then abandoned me in the mid of nowhere, where my baby and I would have died without help." Nadir nodded. That had most likely been Théophile-Auguste's plan.

Christine shuddered. She could well imagine Théophile-Auguste to be capable of such cruelty. "But what do we do now?" She asked hesitantly. "Monsieur de Chagny will know that I escaped and that I am still alive. Will he not look for me again?" Erik nodded. "He surely will. But as Nadir just told me, he probably won't know about your escape before some time tomorrow. We are therefore relatively safe here at the moment. Darius is seeing to it that your husband's relative won't be informed of your rescue too soon. If this Théophile-person inspects the site of the attack, he will probably think that you fell into the water and drowned. So until his henchmen will be able to tell him what exactly happened on that bridge – and as I said, thanks to Darius he won't learn that anytime soon – he will think that the ambush was successful and you are out of the way. When he starts looking for you, we will be gone."

Nadir chimed in. "I suggest we do not go directly to Paris." He looked at Christine. "Assuming you still want to go there." Christine looked at him. "I have to. I need to attend Raoul's funeral next Thursday. I also want to do so. I owe it to him. He was my husband, and he is the father of the child I am carrying." She rubbed her belly lovingly. "My poor little one," she whispered, "having to grow up without a father." Erik understood her perfectly. He had seen her grief when she had lost her own father all those years ago. He knew how important she considered a father to be for a child's well-being. He smiled at her, pushing the pain his heart felt at the mentioning of Raoul to the background. He had to be strong for her. "We will make sure that you get there safely and in time," he promised Christine. "We will also help you to fight for your child's rights and inheritance, should you encounter any troubles in that regard."

"As I had mentioned, we had thought about not going directly south-east towards Paris," Nadir continued to explain what should be done next. "We would rather go east, or maybe even north-east, where Théophile-Auguste will not look for us. We could then either take the railway somewhere along the line from Le Havre to Paris, or maybe a boat on the Seine." Christine was not quite convinced. "But wouldn't Théophile-Auguste's people be looking for three men and a woman that roughly fit our descriptions?" she asked. "They may well do that," Nadir admitted. "The fact that I asked Darius to buy clothes for you that would match our disguise as local fishermen, will certainly help. And we will have to split up. They would not find anything strange about a young family traveling to Paris." He glanced at Christine, to see if she understood what he was hinting at. "Or, maybe a young family traveling in the company of an old uncle," he added. "That is, if you don't want to be left alone with Erik," he added mischievously. "We will have to send Darius home on his own with the horses anyway, once we get on the rail or the boat, so we will at the most be two men and one woman."

Christine blushed at the thought of traveling alone with Erik – protected by him, as she had always been. She glanced at her angel. His eyes – those pleading eyes that definitely adored her – anxiously watched her. How would she decide? Would she trust him enough to be alone with him for a day or so? Or would she ask Nadir to come with them? Christine was not sure if it was wise to do so, but she could not deny him this. "If my Angel offers to escort me safely to Paris, I will go with him," she decided. "Erik, I do trust you. I only now realize that I have no better and more loyal friend in the whole world than you." Erik beamed. He was not quite certain if he should be happy that she trusted him or sad that she saw him as a friend, but wisely decided on the former. It was way too early for anything other than friendship anyway.


	8. Narration

I am back! I had hoped to update a few days sooner, but my flight back home was pretty eventful - first a delay of over two hours due to bad weather, then an unscheduled stop due to an unruly passenger, which resulted in a delay of over four hours and an arrival home over 24 hours after I had gotten up (with only about 4 hours of sleep the night before). And when I came home I learned that one of my guinea pigs had died in my absence. So I hope you will understand that I was pretty useless the past two days.

Anyway, my vacation was great. I was in Las Vegas and saw "Phantom" there. One has to see that in order to believe it! Awesome sets, by the way, quite obviously inspired by the movie. They tried to imitate the effect of the theater coming to life during the overture, they had the candelabra emerging from the water with candles lit in the title song scene, they tried to show a bit of the struggle between Phantom and Buquet with the help of shadows projected during the "Il Muto"-ballet, and, most notably and totally unexpected, the chandelier came down after "Point of no Return", not after "All I Ask of You" and was followed by a simulation of the burning theater. You probably would never have guessed that that's what it was if you had not seen the film, but it was there. So cute!

On the other hand, it was "Phantom of the Opera in 100 minutes". Yes, it was cut. Severely. And what was worse, the further they got the more they cut. The beginning was pretty complete until and including "Music of the Night", then things got bad. Half of "Stranger than you dreamed it" was missing, the entire Buquet-scene with Mme. Giry warning him, "Notes" and "Primadonna" had substantial cuts, part of "Why have you brought me here?" was missing, "Masquerade" was probably only one third to one half of its normal length, the "Notes"-reprise (which is not in the movie either) was missing as well as that part of it which in the movie is added to "Why so silent, good Messieurs?", the Don Juan-rehearsal (again, not in the movie, and if you ask me, unnecessary anyway) was cut, lines were missing from the "Twisted Every Way"-Scene as well as from "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" and "Down Once More". The worst (in my opinion), though, was "Past the Point of no Return" - they cut Christine's entire part! I mean, Phantom started "You have come here..." in the middle of this introduction she took over and sang the part of already having imagined their bodies entwining and he finished with "now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you have decided, decided..." then he sang his part of "Point of No Return" and they immediately cut to the part where they sing together (the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn, we've passed the point of no return). It certainly was an interesting experience! The singers were okay, Raoul was way too rough for the part, though. He was an understudy. Phantom and Christine were decent, though I prefer the movie cast in both cases. Phantom was an understudy as well. Voice was not bad, but expression was lacking in my opinion.

So, back to my story. I still don't own anything or anybody, just to make sure you all are aware of this fact.

We finally learn what the prologue was all about...

Chapter 7 – Narration

At the insistence of the two men, Christine lay down again and after a while fell asleep. Erik could hardly turn his face away from her peacefully sleeping form. Too long had he missed her presence. Nadir was wondering. Was Erik getting his hopes up? Christine certainly treated him well, considering their tortured past, but how much of her current affection was gratitude? After all, Erik had been instrumental in saving her and her unborn baby's life. How much of it was genuine friendship – since even Nadir was aware that in her own way, the young Vicomtesse did care for his friend. Was there a chance she might develop deeper feelings for her Angel over time? Nadir was not sure. He knew without a doubt though, that as much as he would help Erik protect this woman, he would also do his best to protect Erik from being hurt again.

He cautiously approached his young friend. "What do you think about her feelings for you, Erik?" he asked his friend. Erik sighed. "She behaves as if she were really happy to have me around. Considering how I have treated her in the past that is amazing. I had not expected her to trust me ever again, but apparently she does. I know that she is grateful that we saved her, which is of course influencing her current attitude. But... " Nadir nodded in understanding. "You hope that her behavior towards you proves that she has deeper feelings for you." Erik gave him a tortured look. "Nadir, I am no fool. I know that it is impossible that she will ever return my love. Just look at me. Which woman could stomach the idea of bedding a monster like me? Or as much as kiss me?" He interrupted himself as a memory of soft, warm lips on his, a caressing hand on his deformed cheek passed his mind. She _had_ kissed him. He tried to shake off that particular memory. She had been desperate then. He had threatened her fiancé's life if she did not stay with him. She had not kissed him because she wanted to, but because she had hoped to save Raoul de Chagny. She would never kiss him out of her own free will.

Nadir put a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder. "You are not a monster, Erik. But while I can see that she truly does care for you, I am also fairly convinced that her feelings for you are those of friendship and gratitude. Don't get your hopes up just yet. I do not want to see you hurt again." Erik nodded. "Do not worry, Nadir. I know my place. I was foolish to expect a beautiful, warm, caring creature like her to fall for a deformed murderer like me. That does not change my feelings for her, though. I just will have to learn to be content with her friendship and with serving her." There was so much pain lurking at the bottom of his eyes when he said this, that Nadir felt bad for having approached the topic. "I am sorry, Erik. I did not want to cause you distress," he mumbled apologetically. "I just wanted to make sure you understand her feelings for you and do not expect her to turn to you now that she is free again." Erik nodded. "Understood, Nadir. You only did what every good friend would have done."

Nadir thought it was time to change the topic. "Erik, do you not want to get some rest as well?" he suggested. "You have been standing watch for the past two nights and have not had much sleep. You will need to be strong and well rested tomorrow morning when we continue our journey. I am here now and can take the next watch." Erik had to admit that Nadir was right. He was exhausted. For Christine's sake he had to be strong and relaxed. He therefore made himself comfortable in the hay. Nadir noted that Erik had chosen a spot where he could see Christine, while staying far enough away from her to satisfy the dictates of propriety. Erik fell asleep almost the moment he had lain down. Nadir smiled and prayed that for his friend's sake, Allah might turn the young widow's heart to her Angel of music.

Xxxx

Shortly before dawn Darius arrived after deposing of his four captives as planned. Nadir let him in and told him to get some sleep while he could, since the Vicomtesse needed a bit more rest anyway and Erik was still asleep as well. Darius gladly followed this suggestion, while Nadir continued to watch over them.

About an hour later Christine began to stir and slowly opened her eyes. Nadir smiled at her encouragingly and silently pointed at the two sleeping men. Christine nodded in understanding. The new arrival must be Nadir's servant, Darius, who had been expected to join them during the night. She looked over to where her Angel and best friend was sleeping. Erik was lying on his good side, the mask firmly in place on the right side of his face. Christine motioned Nadir to come closer and whispered to him. "Why is he sleeping with his mask on? That cannot be comfortable!"

Nadir smiled. He had hoped for a chance to discuss Erik with the young woman. "He does not normally," he replied quietly. "Erik knows that you have seen his face before, but he does not want to scare you with his looks. That could be bad for your baby. Also, he is very self-conscious. He wants to look his best for you." He side-glanced at her to see her reaction. Christine nervously played with a stray lock of her hair. "Erik has only ever been good to me," she whispered guiltily. "He was there for me, when I was still a child and needed somebody after my father died. He helped me with my voice and provided me with a chance to sing at the Opera Populaire, and now he saved me and my baby and will bring us home and help me fight for my child's rights. And I have hurt him so badly. I betrayed his trust by unmasking him in front of the entire audience…" She sighed. "I do not understand why he still wants anything to do with me, but I am so glad he does. Without him I would be lost."

Nadir was certain she meant every word she said. He thought by himself that her feelings for Erik were most obviously those of gratitude mixed with guilt and the remainder of their old friendship from the time when he had been her Angel of Music. "Erik loves you," he said simply. "I am sure you are aware of that fact." When Christine nodded, he continued. "Erik is my friend, and I have seen the two of you together and I know that you do care for him as well. Therefore please forgive me my next words. I am speaking as Erik's friend, who does not want his friend to get hurt again." Christine stared at him offended. "No, Vicomtesse, hear me out. I know you do not want to hurt him, but considering his feelings for you, you might do so inadvertently. I know you do not return his feelings – at least not in the way Erik would want you to. That is not your fault. You cannot command your heart who to love anymore than he can. Just make sure he understands that all you feel for him is friendship, so that he does not get his hopes up that you might change your mind about him. If he thinks he has reason to believe you might accept his proposal now and you then tell him off… I do not even want to think about what would happen this time," Nadir finished his sentence, shuddering. Christine looked at him sharply. "This time?" she whispered, in shock. "That means, something terrible happened last time, did it not? What was it? Please tell me everything."

Nadir hesitated. He was not sure Erik would want him to reveal the whole truth to the woman he loved, but he felt that Christine had a right to know it all. Maybe it would also help her to understand Erik better and help her protect him from getting hurt again. "I guess you need to know the truth," he finally admitted, then began his story. "Erik came to me that night. That is, it was long past midnight, when he arrived. He was in a terrible condition, both emotionally and physically. He was not coherent anymore, and he collapsed a few minutes after his arrival. He came down with a severe case of nervous fever, and he had absolutely no will to live. He did not fight the sickness. He had me worried for weeks." Christine gasped. She had not wanted her Angel to suffer that badly. Nadir continued. "I refused to give up on him. I treated all his symptoms as well as I could, and after weeks I finally got him through the crisis. But he was so weak, and he still had no interest in life. I practically had to force him to eat, but even so he just took barely enough nourishment to survive, his recovery was therefore making only very slow progress. He was depressed and listless and repeatedly asked me to let him die."

Nadir noticed how much distress his narration caused the young woman and reassuringly took her hand. "Do not take it so hard, it was not your fault, and he is fine now," he murmured. Christine nodded. "Please continue," she whispered. "I need to know the whole truth."

"Erik's immune system had suffered as well," Nadir continued. "He constantly was catching something, a slight cold, a cough, which of course slowed down his recovery a lot. Only late last summer was he finally starting to make some progress and get a bit stronger again, and then…" Nadir stopped, the memory of those terrible days was still very vivid. "It was late last fall," he continued. "While Erik was getting stronger, his immune system obviously still was down, and he caught pneumonia." Christine gasped in shock. Pneumonia was dangerous enough, for somebody as weak as Erik must have been at the time he came down with it, it was almost inevitably deadly. Nadir must have read her thoughts, for he continued: "Yes, it was that bad. I once again feared for his life for weeks, but he is tough. He once again survived the crisis and pulled through. Around Christmas I finally had hopes that he might recover."

Christine looked over to where Erik was still sleeping. How much he had suffered that past year! No wonder he was so thin now, it was only to be expected after his months of illness and slow convalescence. She turned to Nadir. "And this time he wanted to live?" she asked. "I mean, he seems to be strong and healthy now, except for his thinness." Nadir squirmed. He felt a bit uncomfortable telling her the rest. How would she feel once she knew what had caused Erik to want to live and to get well again?

"Not immediately," he finally mumbled. "It was as before, he felt betrayed that I had not let him die and did not want to cooperate with his recovery. So, one day, I talked to him and tried to make him understand that he had to let go of you and get on with his life. He looked at me with such desperation in his eyes and whispered 'Nadir, if at least I knew that she is truly happy'. I told him that there was no reason to think otherwise, after all, as far as I had heard, you had married your Vicomte. Erik insisted. He wanted proof. He finally promised that if I could somehow convince him that his sacrifice had bought you the happiness you had dreamed of, he would not fight my attempts at helping him recover any longer."

Christine's eyes widened in shock, she had an idea of what was to come now. "Oh my God," she whispered. "He learned about my fate, when he was that ill?" Nadir nodded. "It did not take me long. I do have my contacts, and Darius has access to gossip in the servants' community. Within a day or two we had all the information – it just was not, what I had expected." Christine looked at him. "You learned that nobility had not accepted me, that my in-laws despised me, that my husband did not defend me as I had hoped he would. Probably you also learned that Raoul had re-joined the Navy and was about to leave me for months at a time when I was finally expecting our first child." Nadir nodded. "All of that, plus the fact that cousin Théophile-Auguste was heavily indebted, with no chance of borrowing money from anybody anymore and that he had been hoping to inherit the title. With your husband absent on a potentially dangerous mission, that only left you and your unborn child between him and the title plus all the assets of the de Chagny-family."

Christine's heart ached at the thought of what these news might have done to her Angel when he still had been so weak. "You told Erik all that?" she asked. "In his condition? How did he take those news?" Nadir looked at her uneasily. "At first I was not sure what to do. I feared that the information I had received would kill him. He was still so very ill at that time. I considered stalling for time, telling him I had not been able to find out everything yet, but he is no fool. He knows that I do have connections. My next impulse was to lie to him. To make up something. But then I thought of you, and I suddenly thought, it was worth trying to tell Erik the truth. I knew I might risk losing him that way, but I also had reason to believe that the thought of you possibly needing help might be a strong motivation for Erik to get better. So I did the latter. I put all my faith in the strength of Erik's love for you and I prepared my speech well. Then I went to my guest room, where Erik had been living for the past few months. He was awake, and he looked at me expectantly. 'Have you heard anything about her?' he asked. I took his hand. 'Yes, Erik,' I said. 'Please hear me out and be strong. You must be strong for her, Erik. She will need help.' And then I told him everything. He looked exhausted once I had finished, but his eyes had regained some life. 'You are right, Nadir,' he finally said. 'It was selfish of me to want to die when my angel Christine needs help. I will not desert her. I need to get well as quickly as possible.' From that day on he ate and made every effort possible to recover. From that day on he wanted to live."

Tears were streaming down Christine's face. She was too touched to speak. Her Angel loved her that much! He had wanted to die when he had lost her, yet once he knew she was in trouble, he had put his own heart-break behind and had recovered – for her. So that he could be there for her and protect her. Nadir put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He recovered faster than I had hoped. In February he was already strong enough that we could follow you to Normandy. Actually, the sea and the rough climate there did Erik a lot of good. He made a full recovery. He is strong and healthy as before, though still a bit too thin for my taste, but with time, he will regain some weight as well. You do not have to worry about him now. His immune system is also back on track, he will not get ill at any cold breeze," he assured her. Christine looked at him, grateful for his understanding. "I did not mean for all this to happen to Erik," she whispered. "I had no idea he would take losing me that badly. Actually, I had thought he had died in the fire. I thought I was dreaming when he pulled me out of this carriage."

Nadir squeezed her shoulder. "I know you did not want him to suffer that much. He knows that as well. It is just… I do not want history to repeat itself, and now that you know how he reacted the first time…" his voice trailed. Christine nodded in understanding. "I will make sure that he knows that I do care for him – a lot. But as a friend. Hopefully he will accept that friendship is all I can give him, but this with all my heart." She smiled. "I do not get it anyway, why people always put so much importance on love. Friendship is so much more important. Love is such an illusion that does not last long, friendship on the other hand… friendship will last forever. Look at me and Erik – we have hurt each other terribly, but our friendship has survived. It is built upon trust and years of shared experiences." Nadir gave her a quizzical look. Was she saying that her love for the Vicomte had not survived, while her friendship with Erik had? Was she saying that her feelings for Erik were deeper and more lasting than those for her late husband had been? Was there hope for Erik after all? He shook his head. Only time would tell. If anything, he noticed that the young woman in front of him definitely did care for Erik – but if she felt more for his friend than just friendship she clearly was not aware of her feelings – yet. He once again prayed to Allah, that he might guide Christine so that she would open her heart to his young friend.


	9. On the way

Sorry for the delay! I had a friend staying with me for a few days. I had hoped I could get a new chapter up before her arrival, but obviously that has not happened.

So... I hope you are all still there! Thank you for reading and reviewing and for reading my other stories as well. Your support means a lot to me.

Oh, and before I forget - I still don't own anything or anybody.

Chapter 8 – On the Way

As Erik began to stir, about to wake up, Christine grasped Nadir's hand and murmured a hasty "Thank you." At the Persian's interrogatory glance, she quickly added "For all you've done for Erik – and for telling me the truth." Nadir nodded at her and went to wake Darius as well.

Erik got to his feet and moved to the small satchel he had attached to his saddle. He took out the local costume that the men had purchased as disguise for Christine and handed it to her. "It will be safer for you to put on these clothes, and maybe braid your hair," he told Christine. The young woman blushed. He did not expect her to change in front of three men, or did he? The moment Erik saw her face grow purple, he felt awkward for how his words must have sounded to her. "Don't worry, my dear," he comforted Christine. "We will take the horses out to the water, so that they can drink before we leave, and to give you some privacy, but we will be close enough to protect you." Christine smiled at him, gratefully. "Thank you, Angel," she whispered.

Erik took César's reins and lead his horse out of the barn, followed by Nadir and Darius with the other two horses, and Christine quickly changed into the clothes her three protectors had prepared for her. She folded up the outfit she had been wearing and started to work on her hair. To her dismay, her long curls were disheveled and tangled after the previous day's ordeal and after sleeping in the hay. She had serious trouble working on them with the tiny brush Erik had handed her together with the clothes. She was about to give up, when Erik returned. "Open your hands," he told her, "I have something for you." Christine put the brush down and looked at him expectantly. "What is it?" she asked curiously. "Open your hands," Erik insisted, and when she did so, he filled them with a selection of wild berries he had picked for her outside. "I thought you might want some fruit with the bread we have for breakfast," he explained. "And your baby probably needs some vitamins."

Christine fought back tears. She was too moved to speak. It had been so long since anybody had cared for her, had thought about what she might need or want. She was not used to this sort of kindness anymore, but it definitely felt good to know that somebody in this world did care for her well-being. Her Angel's thoughtful gift warmed her heart. Of course she knew that despite her problematic relationship with the de Chagny-family and her recent negative experiences, kindness still did exist in this world, even though she had not experienced it in a long time. She reminded herself that she should not be surprised that somebody treated her so kindly. Even less so, since this somebody was her dear Angel. After all, he had been there for her before when she had needed help and understanding after her father's death. Whatever crimes he might have committed – and she had witnessed several of them – to her he had only ever been kind. Except for that night over a year ago, and he had not been himself then. He had obviously been under great emotional stress and had probably already been ill. She looked up at him and gave him a shy little smile. She did not want to give him false hope about her feelings for him, but she had to thank him somehow for his thoughtfulness.

Erik's heart beat faster when he saw her smile at him. How she could so easily forgive all that he had done to her and grant him her friendship again seemed like a miracle to him. He relished every word of kindness, every smile, every evidence of her unbroken trust in him. To his greatest delight, her eyes now seemed much more alive than when he had first seen her again in the beautiful garden of the de Chagny summerhouse. Her spirit, her soul, was about to re-awake.

While Christine was eating the berries, Erik noticed the discarded brush, and Christine's quite unfinished hairdo. He realized that the tangles in her dark curls obviously had presented a problem for Christine. He hesitated, overwhelmed with desire to play with those glorious, silky curls, to lose himself in the sensation of her soft hair. Should he offer her his help? If he did, would she allow him to brush her hair and braid it for her or would she be offended at the intimacy this would imply? Erik certainly did not want to frighten her with the intensity of his feelings. He was far too happy with her current acceptance of him to risk their new-found friendship.

Christine looked up and found Erik staring at the brush. She remembered the mess her hair was in and felt suddenly very self-conscious. "I am sorry," she apologized. "I know my hair looks terrible, but I can't seem to be able to get through with the brush. I don't know what to do." She sighed. Would it be impossible to untangle her curls, would she have to cut her hair?

Seeing her frustration, Erik mustered all his courage and asked "Would you find it terribly inappropriate for me to offer you my help with your hair? I know I have no right to do so, and you probably think I am way out of place for even considering this,…" Erik thought he must be sounding like a fool, babbling incoherently like that, and wished too late, he had kept his mouth shut.

At first, Christine was shocked at his suggestion, then she smiled. She was not used to doing her hair herself any longer, and being heavily pregnant caused her to tire easily. Her arms felt like lead already and she had not achieved much yet. She definitely needed somebody to help her with her hair. Since there was no maid around, obviously one of the men would have to do the maid's job. As inappropriate as it was, she would have to accept Erik's offer. She looked at Erik, embarrassed. "It _is_ indecent," she admitted, "but I fear my only other option might be to cut my hair. And since friends are there to help each other, maybe,… just this once?"

Erik thought she looked adorable in her embarrassment, but her use of the word "friends" brought him back to reality. A friend… that was all he meant to her, and he did not even deserve her friendship after how he had treated her previously. He had to be grateful for her forgiveness and actually act as a friend – not like a love-sick puppy. He took the brush and started to work on her hair. Even though Erik tried to be as matter-of-fact about it as possible to prevent the situation from getting even more awkward for Christine, he could not deny that he greatly enjoyed the chance to play with her luscious, soft curls. Brushing a woman's hair was something a husband might do for her… he longingly imagined what it might be like having a right to brush those curls every day – and to kiss the shoulders on which those curls fell down. Of course he could only dream of such ecstasy – but it was a wonderful dream.

Christine felt a bit awkward. She was aware of the intimacy of the situation. Never before had a man brushed her hair. Before she married Raoul, she had either done it herself or she and Meg had helped each other, and once she had become a Vicomtesse, there had always been a maid. Raoul had never expressed an interest in brushing her hair. He probably had considered it beneath him to do a maid's job. Her Angel, on the other hand,…. a wave of tenderness washed through her for this man, who went out of his way to help her, even though she had broken his heart and almost caused his death in doing so. She really was a lucky woman to have such a loyal, devoted friend. She also had to admit that Erik did a far better job with her hair than any of the maids of the de Chagny household. He was so gentle and, unlike those maids, he tried his best not to hurt her. She also had to admit to herself that she rather enjoyed the experience, even though it definitely _was_ inappropriate for her to let Erik handle her hair.

A few minutes later, Erik had brushed all the tangles out of Christine's curls and braided them into a heavy plait. He tied a ribbon around it and stowed the brush away in the satchel together with Christine's own clothes and his cloak. He was still busy with packing, when Nadir entered, asking, "Are you ready to leave, Erik? I think we should get going!" The former daroga almost choked on his last words, when he looked at the two young people. What was going on here? The Vicomtesse had turned a dark shade of pink and Erik looked positively embarrassed while radiant with happiness at the same time. Had Allah been listening to his prayers?

Erik and Christine both fought to compose themselves. Erik finally managed to ask Christine, if she felt ready to continue the journey. Still slightly embarrassed she nodded and followed him outside, where Darius waited with the horses. Erik quickly attached the satchel to the saddle, then climbed on his horse and lifted Christine up in front of him. She wrapped her left hand around his waist and rested her head against his right shoulder, while Erik had his right arm around her. "You must tell me immediately when you need to rest," he instructed her, "We will avoid settlements, so there won't be any inns, but I promise you that I will find suitable resting places for you."

Erik and Christine made their way on César's back towards a small train station in the north-east, which they would hopefully reach by the end of the day. Nadir and Darius resumed their routine of checking the way ahead, behind and to the sides by circling around the pair. The three men had decided that it was best not to use the main roads and to stay as far away from any villages as possible. Preferably, nobody should see either one of them during their trip, and Erik also made sure to ride over gravel or rocky terrain wherever possible, in order to cover their tracks.

Christine could not help contemplating how much her fate had changed in such a short time. Only a few days ago, she had been the abandoned young woman, ignored, if not despised by her husband's servants and family members. She had been lonely and frightened because of the impending birth of her child and had had nobody to confide in. She had had no hopes for her life to ever make a turn for the better again. She had not expected her husband's return to improve her situation. She had been depressed and had not known anymore how to cope with her situation. Her future had looked bleak and rather dreadful, and fear of her in-laws forcing her to let them raise her child had been great. News of Raoul's death had only made things worse. Even though their relationship had already been precarious at best and she had not expected any help from him, it had been a huge strain on her to know that he was gone, that she would never get a chance to repair their relationship, that Raoul would never meet his child and the poor baby would never know its father. She also could not help feeling guilty for what had happened to him. She was fairly certain that he would never have rejoined the Navy had the terrible situation between her and his parents not driven him away.

Then yet another disaster had occurred: her carriage had been attacked and she and her unborn child had almost lost their lives. But even though she now knew that both she and her child were in grave danger, that a member of the family had tried to get rid of them in order to ensure the inheritance for himself, that attack had been the turning point for the better.

Christine snuggled a bit closer to Erik's chest. She had not felt as safe and protected in a long time. That attack, as scary and dreadful as it had been, had brought Erik back into her life. She had to admit, that she had missed him greatly. After all, her Angel of Music had been the most important person in her life after her father's death, even when she had not been aware yet that he was an actual person. Nobody had understood her loneliness or her enthusiasm for music as well as this disembodied voice, who had at first comforted her and later trained her to become a singer. How many times had she wished for her Angel to be a real person! She had been granted her wish at last, but at the same time she had learned about his disfigurement and his temper – and that he was the dreaded Phantom of the Opera. Still, his friendship had meant a lot to her, so much, that she had been hesitant to give in to her feelings for her handsome childhood-friend Raoul, until her beloved teacher had killed Buquet. She had turned to Raoul immediately, and their romance had begun. She had realized that her Angel loved her as well, but she had been afraid of the killer – although deep down she had known that he would never hurt her. She had reluctantly agreed to act as bait for him during the performance of "Don Juan", but she now realized that the events of that night had traumatized her just as badly as they had hurt him. She had not been able to think about that night or anything connected with it, since that would only have caused her more pain. So she had blocked these events from her memory, thus practically banning her fallen Angel from her thoughts. But his return had re-awoken all her memories of him, good and bad. And to her surprise, the positive memories were much more dominant. She remembered little instances from her childhood, how he had always been able to comfort her, how he had always found the right words for whatever problem she was dealing with. She felt so ashamed when she thought about how she had thanked him for all his help. That she had not been able to return his feelings, was not her fault, and she thought he understood that now as well. That she had lost her trust in him, had started to fear him and had ultimately betrayed him, though, was her fault and nobody else's. After all, she knew him better than all those others did. She should have understood his motivations, she of all people should have realized how much he suffered when he lost her to Raoul. She should have shown him her friendship then, made him see that nothing would change between them, she should have been there for him as he had been there for her when she had needed him. Instead she had humiliated and exposed him in front of the entire audience and done everything in her power to deliver him into the hands of the authorities. To think that the person she had hurt so terribly had come to her in her time of need, had forgiven her for her betrayal and was supporting and protecting her in a way she had never again expected to experience! Christine leaned heavily against Erik's chest. It was comforting to feel his nearness, to know that he would protect her and her baby with his life.

Erik felt Christine clinging to him like to a lifeline. He instinctively pulled her a bit closer. "Sh, Christine, it's all right," he murmured. "I will keep you safe and protect you." His heart raced. Women had shunned him because of his face, not even money could buy him physical contact and love. Yet Christine was in his arms right now and seemed to be comfortable enough there. She meant more to him than the entire universe, even though she had betrayed him and abandoned him for a handsome young man – who had all those qualities that Erik lacked: good looks, youth, a position in society. Erik knew that despite those qualities, the Vicomte had not been able to give Christine the happiness she had dreamed of. But could he dare hope that she would now be more willing to look past such superficial, outward characteristics, that she would learn to appreciate what he had to offer – his love, his tenderness, his willingness to do everything in his power to protect her and to make her life as easy and as happy as possible?

"She is grateful that you saved her and her baby's life," he told himself. "Don't get your hopes up. She keeps telling you that she sees you as her friend. You must be glad that she remembers your previous relationship when you were her teacher, her Angel of Music. She wants you to continue being that for her, her friend, her mentor, her father figure, her protector. It is more than you could ever hope for that her trust in you has returned, that she accepts your help and lets you back into her life again. She does not return your feelings. Why should she? Look at you. Which woman in her right mind would want a man with a face like yours? A man that has to hide in the dark to prevent being attacked and humiliated, a man for whom there is no place in human society. On top of this, you are approximately twice her age. You almost _could_ be her father. Should she ever consider another relationship, you won't be the one she will think of. Get used to it!" But no matter how many times he reminded himself of these facts, he could not help but enjoy her very obvious trust, the way how she clung to him, the feeling of her body against his. Of course he could dream of holding her like this forever. At least for the moment he could pretend that she was really his. But since a mere dream filled him with that much joy – what would it be like if this were not a dream, but reality?


	10. Rest

.Yet another update! Of course you know that I don't own anything or anybody, but I'll repeat it just to be on the safe side.

Second, thank you to my readers and reviewers, please don't stop! Let me know what you like or dislike about this or any of my other stories (reviews to finished stories are still welcome as well!)

Anyway, our not-yet-couple is alone again, and towards the end of the chapter it gets really fluffy again. But we also learn something new about Christine's marriage and we can look forward to meet two old friends soon.. I hope you will like this chapter

Chapter 9 – Rest

Even though Erik avoided difficult territory, forced César to run at a steady trot and tried to hold Christine in a way that she was as comfortable as possible, after a while the young woman grew exhausted and asked her Angel for a short break. Erik looked around and spotted a little clearing ahead, with soft, green grass, where Christine could rest. He directed César towards the clearing and they got off the horse. Erik lead Christine towards a huge oak-tree which offered protection against the hot summer sun. While César started to browse, Erik looked around for some more berries and Christine lay down on the soft grass. As safe and protected as she felt in her Angel's arms, her pregnancy was making her uncomfortable. Not only did she tire easily, her back also gave her problems because of the baby's extra weight she was carrying and therefore, from time to time she simply needed to lie down flat on her back.

After a while Erik returned, both his hands full of ripe berries. Christine smiled at him. She much preferred those to the hard bread and cheese that Erik carried in his saddle bag. Her Angel really went out of his way to make her as comfortable as possible. She once again had to think how different her life had suddenly become. Until a day ago she had lived in luxury, but had been lonely and unwelcome, now she was on the road, everything was primitive, but she was loved and accepted. "Sit down with me, Erik," she asked her dear friend, "have some berries, too!" She almost added that he needed to put on some weight, since he was much thinner than the last time she had seen him, but suppressed those words in time. She knew by now that he had a rather low self-esteem because of his face and she was not sure how he would take a comment about his weight. She did not want him to think that his face was not the only thing about him that was ugly.

At first Erik did not want to eat his share of the fruit, but Christine proved to be rather stubborn and insisted, so that he finally ate a few raspberries. Erik was still relishing the feeling, that Christine, _his_ Christine, would want to share her delicacies with him, when her next words brought him out of his reverie. "Erik, once we have reached Paris, do I have to go to the de Chagny town house?" Christine looked up at him. Erik realized that he had not yet thought that far ahead. He could understand that she would not want to live with her in-laws, who probably blamed her for her husband's death, and would once again treat her in a condescending manner, insult her, or simply ignore her. He also had to admit, that she would most likely not be safe in the de Chagny household, where Théophile-Auguste could come and go as he pleased, while Erik and Nadir could not be with Christine every moment of every day to protect her. On the other hand, her baby had to be born in the de Chagny house, to leave no doubt that the child she presented as the de Chagny heir was really hers and not a changeling.

"Where else would you want to go?" Erik finally asked. Christine bit her lip. If she were completely honest, she would have had to say, "Let me stay with you, protect me against Monsieur Théophile-Auguste, keep me and my baby safe," but she knew herself that that was impossible. It would not only be completely inappropriate for her to stay with a man she was not related with, it would also confirm all the rumors and suspicions about her lifestyle as a performer. Besides, Erik did not even have a place of his own, since as far as she knew, he was staying with Nadir. And of course, there also was the problem of Erik's feelings for her. Who knew what he would read into her desire to stay with him for safety and protection? She did not want to give him false hope. Of all people on the whole world he was the last one she would want to hurt, and after her negative experiences with love and marriage, she was positive that friendship was all she would ever feel for anybody or want from anybody again.

Christine racked her brain. Where could she go? She did not want to go to her in-laws and she could not stay with Erik, the Opera was not completely rebuilt yet, what other possibilities were there? "Madame Giry!" She suddenly blurted out the name of her surrogate mother. "Could you bring me to her and Meg?" Erik hesitated. "Do you know where they live now?" he asked. He had not been in touch with the Girys since the fire at the Opera, and did not even know if they were currently in Paris. Christine nodded. "Of course, though I have not seen them in quite a while. Raoul did not want me to socialize with the theater folk, as he called it." She blushed, remembering yet another fight she had lost. She was fairly certain that Raoul would have had no objections against her seeing Meg and her mother, but the Comte had categorically forbidden any visits to her former colleagues, and Raoul had taken his father's side in the argument, as he had done so often.

"But you think they would still take you in for a few days?" Erik inquired. Christine nodded. "They know that I would have come if I could have," she explained. "I am sure they will be glad to see me." Erik hoped she was right. It would only be for a few days anyway, since the moment Christine showed up at her husband's funeral, his family would force her to stay with them, at least until the birth of her child. But it was probably a good idea for Christine to stay hidden until then, letting Théophile-Auguste wonder what had become of her. Maybe her sudden, unexpected reappearance at the funeral would cause that unsavory character to reveal his involvement in her accident, which right now they could not prove.

"In that case," Erik finally decided, "I shall bring you to Antoinette." He chuckled. "I wonder what she'll say when we suddenly show up at her doorstep. I am fairly certain, she believes me dead." Christine gazed at him with her huge, brown eyes. "As did I," she whispered. "But I am so glad you are not dead."

Erik stiffened. He did his best not to read too much into her words. Of course she was glad that he had been there to rescue her. There was absolutely no reason to think she might have deeper feelings for him. Christine sensed his sudden withdrawal and sighed. Erik was her dearest friend and she loved him to pieces, but his low self-esteem was sometimes hard to deal with. She shyly grabbed his hand. "Erik, please," she pleaded with him. "Look at me. You must believe me. I am very glad that you are alive. Not just because you saved my life yesterday, and my baby's life as well. You do mean a lot to me. You always have and you always will. I have missed you terribly this past year. You are the only one that understood me when my father died, the only one that was able to help me deal with the pain and the loss. You are also the only one that shares my passion for music and you have trained my voice and helped me in more ways than I can tell. You have always been there when I needed somebody. You have always put me first." She paused, glancing at him, trying to read in his eyes whether or not he believed her.

"Erik, please," she continued. "You must believe me. I really mean it. I do not have a better friend than you, and since my father's death you have been the most important person in my life." Erik shut his eyes and winced. "Except for … your husband," he murmured. His voice was strained and Christine sensed all the pain of his unrequited love in those few words. "Oh my poor Angel," she whispered. "Don't you see? Friendship and love are two different things. I loved Raoul, yes, but that does not mean that I did not care for you as well, though in a different way. Or that I stopped loving my father, the moment I fell in love with Raoul. One can care for more than one person, in different ways, but with the same intensity. You do have your place in my heart, for all eternity, and nobody will ever be able to chase you from there."

Erik laughed bitterly. "Until you find another young man to fall in love with. You are way too young to remain a widow for the rest of your life. Sooner or later you will remarry." There was so much pain at the bottom of his eyes, so much hurt in his voice, that Christine had to fight back tears. What else would it take for her to convince him that she truly cared for him? A little bit exasperated, she continued, "Erik, don't be silly, first, I just told you that your place in my heart is secure, and second, I will not marry again, I can promise you that."

Christine looked Erik in the eyes to show him the sincerity of her words. She was not ready to discuss the reasons for that decision with him, but she had no desire whatsoever to get married again. She shuddered at the memory of what indignities a woman had to endure in a marriage, if she wanted to have children. She had been so naive and had had no idea what to expect during her wedding night. Therefore she had been utterly shocked when Raoul had suddenly stripped naked in front of her and told her teasingly to take off her nightgown as well. He had explained to her that it was her duty to do so now, and that all married couples acted that way, and that this was necessary in order to have children. He had finally stripped her of her nightgown and when she had tried to cover herself with her hands, he had laughed and called her his little prudish girl. She was sure that she would not have taken such humiliation from anybody but her beloved Raoul – and even with him it had been more than awkward. She had finally given in and allowed him to explore her body with his hands and lips and tongue, but she had stiffly endured, she had not enjoyed it. She could not convince herself that what was happening to her was right. It felt inappropriate. And it hurt. Raoul had ensured her that it would not hurt the next time, and that she would be able to enjoy it then, but she never did. She had understood, that Raoul enjoyed those activities and she was also aware that certain things were necessary in order to get pregnant, but she had concluded that this was obviously a male thing, that women could not derive pleasure from such indignities and just had to play along in order to please their husbands. As much as she had loved Raoul, she had always feared those hours in the bedroom and had prayed for a pregnancy, since she had hoped that Raoul would then leave her alone for a few months.

Of course she could not talk about these things to anybody. Not even to Erik. Least of all to Erik. She blushed. If Erik had not released her that night, if she had had to stay with him – would he have forced her to undress in front of him and would he have stripped naked before her eyes as well? She somehow could not imagine him treating her with anything but the utmost respect.

Erik wallowed in self-pity. All he had heard was that Christine would not marry again. To his ears that sounded as if she still loved the Vicomte, no matter how poorly he had treated her or allowed his family to treat her, that her love for her dead husband was so deep and strong that she would never consider another relationship. She could not have told him in more uncertain words that there was no chance for him, no hope, not even now that she was free again.

Christine glanced at Erik. Had he noticed her embarrassment when she had told him she would never remarry? Had he guessed the reason for her embarrassment? To her dismay she saw that he was utterly shaken, fighting back tears. Whatever was the matter now?

"Erik," Christine tried to get his attention. "Don't be so sad. I really mean it, when I say you are my best friend. I know you have troubles believing me. You think that nobody can care for you because of your face. But that is not true. I do like you, and I am not the only one. Nadir likes you, too, and I think so does Mme. Giry." Erik looked away, desperately trying to control the various emotions that assaulted him.

Christine felt bad. Erik had done so much for her, and she had made him sad again. She wanted to help him calm down, for him to accept that he would always have her friendship so that he could feel secure in that knowledge. If only she knew how to achieve all this…

"Erik," she began once again. "If only I could convince you, that your face does not matter to me, that what you look like has no influence on my friendship. None whatsoever. I wish you would allow me to prove it to you by showing me your face, all of it." She hesitated as she felt him stiffen. "You know that I have seen your face before, Angel," she finally continued, softly. "But of course never with your permission. I am asking your permission now. I am asking you to give me a chance to prove to you that my friendship does not need certain standards of appearance, that it is the person I value. That you don't have to fear your face will end our friendship or that a prettier person will get between us. Let me see the face of my dearest friend. Please."

Erik was an emotional wreck. She sounded so sincere, as if she really believed what she said, as if his abomination of a face did not scare her, as if she could be his friend even when forced to look at his naked face. He wanted so much to believe her, oh God, how many years had he dreamed of her learning to look at his face without fear? But what if she overestimated her strength? If she could not bear the sight of his face after all? If his face scared her, she could go into premature labor.

"I cannot," he whined. "Even if I could muster the courage, I could not do that to you. You seem to think you will be able to look at my face without fear or disgust, but I know from experience that this is not possible. Nobody can do that. You also have to think of your baby, if you go into shock because of my ugliness, you could harm the child." Christine smiled at him reassuringly. "I am willing to take that risk, Angel," she said. "And think back, I told you once before that your face does not scare me. I meant it then, and I mean it now. That night I even…" she blushed deeply at the memory of her behavior. "If I had been scared or disgusted, do you think I would have…" Christine struggled to get the words out, but failed. She simply could not get herself to admit that she had actually kissed Erik. True, she had considered herself his bride then – but what self-respecting woman would kiss a man first?

Erik understood her anyway. The memory of those two kisses was what had kept him alive during his long illness. The feeling of her soft lips on his, her hand caressing his deformed cheek – those few moments had been the happiest ones of his miserable life. Of course he knew that she had kissed him to save her beloved's life, and maybe out of pity as well. Certainly not out of love. But she did have a point. If she had been scared or disgusted, she most likely would not have been able to muster the courage to kiss him. He looked at Christine hesitantly. "Please, Angel," she begged. "Show me your face. Let me prove to you, that I do care for you and that your face does not matter."

Erik sighed. He would do anything for her if she looked at him like that. Anything, except what she was asking of him. "Please." Christine had tears in her eyes now and Erik's heart melted. He could do it. For her, he could. After all, what was the worst that could happen? That she would not be able to look at him without fear. He was used to that reaction. He would deal with it as he always did. He stiffened. Was she aware how hard this was on him? Nervously his hands went to his mask, his fingers fumbling, not quite succeeding at first in untying the mask, that second skin which hid his shame to the world. He closed his eyes and braced himself for Christine's reaction, while at the same time preparing himself to quickly put the mask back on in order to spare her further distress. Slowly, he lowered the mask, baring his face to Christine. She looked at him, memorizing each wrinkle and crevice, each vein and each lump of flesh. True, his face was ugly, but that was not Erik's fault, and it was unfair to make him suffer for something he could not help. "Erik, Angel," Christine whispered. "Look at me. Do I seem scared or disgusted to you?"

Erik slowly opened his eyes. Christine was looking at his disgusting face with so much genuine affection, that he thought he might die with joy. She raised her left hand and asked "May I?" before putting it on his marred cheek, gently caressing his deformity. Erik gasped. He had not expected this. Oh, how good it felt to have her touch him in such a way! And she was smiling at him, too! Surely, not even Heaven could hold greater wonders than what he was experiencing right now.

Christine saw how moved Erik was, and how unused to caresses of any sort he obviously was. Her heart ached thinking of how much cruelty and unkindness he must have endured because of his disfigurement, if such a simple gesture as her small caress could affect him so deeply. She pulled him close to her and hugged him. "Do you finally believe that I care for you, and that your face does not matter? Do you believe now, that you will always have my friendship?" Christine asked. Erik nodded. He could not speak. He was too overwhelmed by the intensity of Christine's courage and friendship and his own emotions. For what she had just done was the ultimate proof of her affection for him. She might not love him the way he would want her to love him, but her feelings for him were definitely strong and deep and he knew beyond any doubt, that nothing and nobody would be able to break their friendship, for Christine had accepted him for who he was. With that knowledge he almost felt like a _normal_ man.


	11. Train Ride

That was fast! New chapter again. Just to be on the safe side, I don't own anything or anybody, yada, yada.

Thanks to my loyal readers, especially my most loyal reviewer Fairyteyla! I am sorry, though, still not much action, but I promise the Girys will be back next chapter, and once Christine is back with the de Chagnys things might get a bit more dramatic. This is still mostly our two heroes. Remember, they haven't seen each other in over a year, and both have suffered a lot. Now they are suddenly reunited... But they both know they won't have much quality time together once Christine is back with the noble family. They need to make the most out of the time they have together.

I am curious what you think what exactly their relationship is at the moment, once you have read this chapter. :-)

Chapter 10 – Train Ride

After a while Christine and Erik resumed their journey towards the little town with the train station where they would meet with Nadir and Darius, entrust César to them and take the train to Paris. They did not talk much, since they were both lost in thoughts, reliving the scene at the little clearing. Erik felt incredibly happy. Christine had accepted him for what he was, she could look at his horrible face with affection, she even was able to touch and caress his disfigured cheek without revulsion. He was beginning to believe that she really cared for him and would want him to be a part of her life again, allowing him to see her regularly. What more could he want?

Christine, on the other hand, could not get Erik's reaction to her shy caress out of her mind. That incredulous look in his eyes, when she had smiled at his deformed face and actually touched the hideousness that was his right cheek, had been proof enough to her that he had never experienced anything similar. She vaguely remembered now that he had told her something about his mother the night of "Don Juan". What had he said then? Something about his mother loathing his face and forcing him to wear a mask? Her heart went out to him. To think that an innocent child had been denied a parent's love because of something he could not help. It was no wonder his self-esteem was so low. What was surprising, though, was that this neglected, unwanted child had grown into a sensitive, understanding, caring person, who had been able to help her deal with her father's death and had supported and nurtured her emotionally during her formative years. One thing she knew for sure: She did not want to lose him again. She wanted Erik to remain in contact from now on, to see him regularly. If she was honest, she would want him to be with her as much as possible. He certainly meant a great deal to her, and she had the feeling that he needed her presence as well. She once again snuggled closer to his chest, enjoying his nearness.

Xxx

The sun was already setting when they reached the outskirts of the little town and the meeting point with Nadir and his servant. Nadir had already checked the train schedule and found out that the train to Paris would leave the next morning. Since the train station was still open, Erik decided to get the tickets right away. Christine gave him a concerned look. "Do you think there will be problems, because…" she did not finish the sentence, but her eyes glanced at Erik's mask. He smiled. His Christine was worried he could get into troubles, or might not get treated with due respect!

"If we do it right, they will not even notice my mask," Erik told her. "First, it is getting dark now, second, I am wearing that hat which shadows part of my face, and third…" he hesitated. Christine looked up at him, expectantly. "Third?" she asked. "Third," Erik continued, "if you are with me, standing to my right side, so that I can turn to you, as if I were your loving husband, concerned for my heavily pregnant wife, the clerk selling the tickets will only see my left profile." Christine smiled, she liked that plan.

They left the horse with their two friends, after Erik had detached the satchel containing Christine's clothes, his cloak and a few other necessities from César's back. If they traveled without any luggage at all they would arouse suspicion. The satchel was a bit small, but it would have to make do. Nadir looked after them, smiling. He had a feeling that he need not worry any more. Erik and the young widow seemed so comfortable with each other, as if their hearts were about to find the way to each other. Allah was obviously listening to his prayers. They both deserved some happiness after what they had been through in the past year.

Xxxx

At the train station everything went as planned , the elderly man selling the tickets did not even notice Erik's mask. He was too busy looking at the pretty young woman, who was obviously heavily pregnant. She could not wait for the train here at the train station! "Monsieur, if you allow me to make a suggestion?" he addressed Erik. "Your lovely wife should not spend the night here in the waiting room. It is not comfortable enough for somebody in her condition." Erik was about to tell him to mind his own business, when he felt Christine's tiny hand squeeze his reassuringly. He calmed down immediately, smiled at her lovingly, and thanked the man for providing him with the address of an inexpensive inn, where he could pass the night with his "wife".

Arrived at the inn they used the same trick to hide Erik's mask, except that, since the inn was more brightly lit, this time Christine was clinging much closer to Erik and he put his right cheek on top of her head, hiding his unusual facial garment in her hair. The inn-keeper smiled at them, as they left for the room he had assigned them. It was good to see a couple as much in love as these two seemed to be.

Xxx

As soon as they had reached their room, Erik locked the door behind them. Then he turned to Christine. "Since you do not have a nightgown with you, I am afraid you will have to sleep in your clothes," he said. "If you want to take off your skirt, I can turn my back to you, while you do so." He turned around and faced the wall. Christine was touched. He was such a gentleman! She quickly got out of her skirt and slid into the bed. "You can turn around," she announced. "I am decent."

Erik sat down in the chair next to a small table. "Good night, Christine. - I know this is not at all, what you are used to," he added apologetically, "but I guess it is still better than another night in a barn." Christine gave him a quizzical look. "Are you not coming to bed, Erik? You must be tired as well?"

Erik blushed. Surely he must have misunderstood. Christine could not have possibly asked him to sleep in the same bed with her? "I… you.." he fought for words. Christine realized a bit too late what could be implied by her words. She turned a deep shade of pink as well, but then she laughed. "Oh Erik," she giggled. "I know it's not appropriate, but nobody sees us anyway and we are both fully clothed, so nothing untoward can happen, not to mention my huge belly, which would prevent us from any… activity… even if we wanted to!" Erik looked at her uncertainly. How could she be so sure her belly would keep him from touching her? Was she not aware how desirable he found her despite her pregnancy? He was a man, after all, and he had the same needs as any other man.

"Come on," Christine urged. "You always take such good care of me, I want to return the favor. You need rest as much as I do, so please, come to bed." Erik hesitated, then it suddenly hit him. She trusted him. She knew she would be safe with him, that he would not dishonor her or take advantage of her in any way. "Are you sure?" he asked once again. Christine nodded. "And take your mask off," she whispered. "I saw you sleep with it last night and it seemed uncomfortable enough. When we are alone you do not have to wear it."

Erik turned off the gas light, then removed his mask in the dark, climbed into bed and stiffly lay down next to Christine. A few moments later, he felt Christine's soft touch on his deformed cheek again. "Sleep well, my Angel," she whispered and snuggled up to him. Erik did not dare to move until her regular breathing showed him that she had fallen asleep. Only then did he gingerly put his arm around her and held her close. Soon he was asleep as well – with his Christine in his arms.

Xxx

Erik awoke fairly early the next morning. It took him a while to realize he was already fully awake and not dreaming anymore. He barely could believe his eyes. The vision in front of him seemed too good to be true. His Christine was lying in bed next to him, her head on his right shoulder and his right arm was holding her protectively, while her right arm had somehow found its way around his waist. She was sleeping peacefully. Erik thought he had never before experienced such happiness. Having Christine sleep in his arms, trusting him to keep her safe, was pure ecstasy. Never before had any woman wanted to have anything to do with him, they had all been disgusted by his face and afraid of him. Except for Christine. She was different. She was not afraid, she could look at his face without disgust and she trusted him. She was aware of his feelings for her and she still trusted him to behave like a gentleman and not to touch her.

Christine stirred in his arms and opened her eyes. She smiled at him. "Good morning, Angel," she suppressed a yawn. "I hope you are well rested?" Erik was in awe. Despite the highly inappropriate situation, all Christine could think about, was if he had slept well? He looked down at her. "Christine, you are aware that we should not be in the same bed together," he began. Christine nodded. "Yes, I know, we discussed this last night. But you are also aware that my life is in danger and the life of my baby as well, that I barely escaped an attack the day before yesterday. I am only alive and well because of you and your friends. I know that there might be other attempts at my life in the future, but I also know that you will protect me and keep me safe. It's just…" she hesitated. "I need to feel your presence. It makes me feel safe."

It dawned on Erik that after all she had been through recently, Christine needed physical contact and comfort to deal with the shock of her husband's death, the attack and the revelation that a relative had planned to kill her and her unborn child. He hugged her and pulled her closer to his body. "My poor Christine," he murmured soothingly. "I am here with you, and I will always be there for you. You can count on me, always."

Xxx

An hour later, Erik and Christine boarded the train to Paris. They tried to get a compartment to themselves, but the train was rather full. Finally, they found a compartment which was occupied only by an elderly lady. They entered, Erik maneuvering carefully so that she could only spot his left profile. "Pardon, Madame," he addressed the woman. "Would you mind, if we joined you? My wife needs to stretch out and rest." Christine turned to face the elderly lady, fully displaying her pregnant belly. The old woman smiled at her. "Of course, child, make yourself comfortable. You are due soon, are you not?" Christine nodded. "Only a few more weeks, five, six at most." Their new acquaintance continued, "you are so young, so I presume this is your first child?"

Erik grew a bit impatient. He had sat down in the corner, his right cheek turned to the wall, and he urged Christine to sit down next to him, stretch her feet on the third seat in the row and rest her head against his chest. He comfortingly put his hands around her and held her close. "Are you comfortable, Lise?" he asked. They had decided that using her real name in public might alert Théophile-Auguste on their whereabouts, so Christine had asked Erik to call her "Lise" while on the train. She had picked that name for two reasons. First, it was a fairly common name in the countryside, and second, it felt like the French version of Elyssa, the role that her Angel had studied with her and which had been her first big triumph as a singer. She felt that by using this name rather than another, they were building somehow on their past history, on their shared success, brought upon by his spirit and her voice.

Once settled down comfortably in Erik's arms, Christine turned to their fellow passenger again. "Yes, it is my first child." She remembered in time that Erik was supposed to be her husband and smiled at him. "Our first child," she added, her left hand reaching for his unmasked cheek and fondly caressing it. The old woman was moved by this display of affection, but she could not help but reproaching Erik. "Monsieur, is it really necessary to take your wife on a trip in her condition?" she asked. Christine felt him stiffen. She could sense his anger. She looked at him, conveying a message with her eyes. "Let me handle this," she pleaded with him silently. Erik gave her a small nod, and she continued. "My husband is taking me to Paris," she explained. "My mother and my sister live there." Well, that was almost true. After all, Erik _was_ taking her to Madame Giry and Meg, and these two were like a mother and sister to her. Erik chimed in. "Yes, my mother-in-law asked that I bring Lise to her shortly before the baby's birth, so that the baby could be born in Paris, in her presence." He thought by himself that whatever relationship he had with Antoinette Giry, he had never envisioned her as his mother-in-law, rather like an older sister.

The friendly old lady nodded. She imagined that the young lady's mother was probably frail and sickly, unable to travel, but would of course want her grandchild to be born in her presence. "I am sure your mother is looking forward very much to your visit and probably can't wait for the new grandchild," she continued and remembered the day when her oldest had given birth to her first grandchild. "Will it be her first grandchild, or does one of your siblings already have children?" she addressed Christine again. This question caught Christine unawares and she had to think quickly. "No," she finally uttered, "my sister does not have any children. This will be mother's first grandchild." She rubbed her belly lovingly. The little one was kicking her and showing her that he or she was starting to feel a bit confined in there. Soon she would be able to hold her baby.

Erik was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable during this interrogation, but Christine smiled at him encouragingly. The situation was harmless enough. The old lady did not even know their real names and there was no way she could see Erik's mask the way he was facing away from her. Even if one of Théophile-Auguste's men interrogated her any time soon, she probably would not even be able to give an accurate description of the young couple that had shared a compartment with her on her trip to Paris. It certainly was less suspicious, if they talked to the lady than if they made it clear that they wanted to be left alone.

Their new acquaintance continued the conversation. "So, where are you two from?" she asked. Christine grew nervous. She had no idea where exactly she was and she most definitely knew no names of villages or little towns in the vicinity. Erik smirked at her. Served her right. She had wanted to talk to the old lady, now she had no answer. Then he turned to their fellow traveler and said calmly, "Boscherville." He was surprised at himself. He had not thought he would be able to pronounce the name of the town where he had spent his miserable childhood in such a quiet manner. The anger at what had happened to him there was still very much present, and all the pain caused by his mother's rejection felt fresh and like a raw wound. Christine sensed his discomfort and nestled herself even deeper into his arm, comforting him by her physical presence and reminding him of their friendship and her trust in him. Erik smiled at her. Christine had once again chased away the demons of his past. With her in his arms he could forget the horrors of his life and pretend to be a man like every other, since an angel like her had learned to accept him and to see past his disfigurement.

The old lady had never been to Boscherville, but she vaguely remembered having heard of this place before. Suddenly it hit her. A few months ago, on her way home from Paris – her son lived there with his family and she had been visiting, as she was now – she had shared the compartment with a very nice lady, who also had been from Boscherville. What had been her name? She racked her brain. "Marie, I am sure of that. Marie. And I think her last name started with a P. Something like Pinot, or maybe Pedault." Erik suddenly smiled. The face of his mother's friend surfaced from his memory. The woman who had tried to make his mother see the wrongness of her treatment of him. "Marie Perrault?" he asked softly. The old lady nodded enthusiastically. Yes, that had been her name. "Do you know her?" she asked. "Yes," Erik acknowledged. "I do know her. She was a good friend of my late mother, and some of my happier childhood memories involve her." Christine listened attentively. She was certain that Erik was not making this up. There obviously really was a place called Boscherville somewhere in the vicinity, and it was quite obviously Erik's birthplace. His mother had been friends with a Marie Perrault, and apparently the woman had been kind to the neglected child that her Angel had been. She wished she could meet this Marie one day and ask her about Erik's childhood – since she somewhat doubted she would get all the details out of her Angel. Or maybe she did not want to hear all the bad stuff, but she would like to learn about those happier childhood memories Erik had just talked about.

Christine's reaching for his hand brought Erik back from the past to the presence. He realized that Christine knew nothing about the things he had just mentioned. He pulled her closer and whispered into her ear. "I will tell you about Marie, just not right now." Christine smiled at him affectionately. She understood that now was not the time for big revelations.

The elderly lady finally seemed to realize that the young couple wanted some privacy and leaned back to rest. For a while she observed the two. The husband was not really a young man anymore, she decided, though still fairly young, but definitely in his thirties, while his wife was barely more than a child, certainly not twenty yet. But there was no doubt in her heart, that they were very deeply in love with each other despite the age difference. After a while she dozed off, happy thoughts of love and family on her mind.


	12. Home

Wow! So many reviews for my last chapter! Thank you, thank you! I am soooo happy! And since you seem to like it, there is more fluff ahead, now that our two not-yet-lovers reach Paris. And the Girys are back as well. Things will get a bit more dramatic next chapter, prepare your tissues, next chapter we will say goodbye to Raoul at his funeral!

Of course I still don't own anybody or anything, just to make sure you all remember that. ;-)

Chapter 11 – Home

It was getting dark again, when the train finally reached Paris. Erik and Christine hired a carriage, once again making sure that the coachman could only see Erik's left profile, and Erik named an address in the vicinity of Mme. Giry's current home as their destination. Even though there had been no evidence of Théophile-Auguste having found out where Christine had gone, Erik wanted to take any possible precaution. There was no need to let the driver know where they were really going.

Once the carriage deposited them at the requested address, Erik paid the driver and lead Christine to the nearest doorway, rummaging in his pockets as if he were looking for his keys. The moment the carriage had turned around the next corner, he opened the satchel and pulled out his cloak. He put it on, put his right arm around Christine's shoulders, so that she was covered by the cloak as well, and pulled her close again, his mask hidden between his hat and Christine's dark hair. That way, they were just a shadow moving in the dark.

They quickly walked the short distance to the Girys' little house. The ladies were obviously home, since the lights were on in the living room downstairs. Erik knocked on the door. He heard Mme. Giry mumble to herself, wondering who was calling on them at that hour. Maybe there was an emergency and a neighbor needed their help? Erik smiled. Antoinette was in for a surprise.

The moment Mme. Giry opened the door, Erik stepped over the threshold, pulling Christine with him. "Quick, Antoinette," he hissed. "Close the door, draw your curtains close and dim your lights." He faced away from the lights, making sure that Christine's face was also in the dark. He was not sure if Théophile-Auguste even knew about Mme. Giry's existence, but in case that relative of the late Vicomte had somebody watching the house, he wanted to make sure nobody would be able to tell that Christine had arrived there.

Mme. Giry was in shock. She knew that cloak and she knew that voice – but, how on earth could Erik be here at her doorstep, when he had died over a year ago? Her mind could not quite grasp what was going on and she just stood there, immobile, trying to figure out what was happening. Erik grew impatient. "Quick, Antoinette, I will explain everything, but we should not be seen here, so get us out of the light!"

Us? Was somebody with Erik? Only now did she notice, that the cloak was covering a second person, and that Erik was holding that other person protectively in his arm. Her eyes widened again. Was she imagining things? She thought she had seen a few stray dark curls that had escaped from a heavy plait. He could not possibly be with Christine? The young Vicomtesse had been reported missing, presumably dead, this very morning!

Mme. Giry suddenly came to life. The person who had spread the news about Christine's disappearance in the capital was that slimy cousin of Raoul's, who was now behaving like the new Vicomte, since Raoul was dead and his widow and unborn child had vanished from the site, where their carriage had had an accident. She had had a bad feeling when hearing the news, as if the new Vicomte had had his hand in the young widow's disappearance. She had no idea, how Erik could still be alive and how he could possibly have stumbled across Christine, but if he had indeed found Christine, and brought her here, then he probably thought she was better off here than with the de Changnys and she therefore needed to make sure that the young widow was safe with her.

She nodded at Erik. "Don't worry, Erik," she mumbled. "I understand the situation." She quickly closed her front door and locked it, then she went into the well-lit dining-room and began to draw all the curtains close. Meg, who had been reading a romance novel, looked up. "What are you doing, mother? Who was at the door?" Mme. Giry turned to face her. "Shh, I will explain everything," she said. "Just dim the lights and help me with the curtains."

Meg did as asked, and as soon as the room was semi-dark and all curtains drawn, so that nobody outside would be able to observe what was going on inside, Mme. Giry gave Erik a sign. "You can come in now," she whispered. "No observer will spot your presence now." It was as if the two in the hallway had just waited for that announcement. Erik released Christine, who threw herself in Mme. Giry's embrace, laughing and crying at the same time. Meg barely suppressed a scream. She was not sure what she had expected, when her mother had asked her to help her with the curtains, but the sudden appearance of her best friend and quasi-sister, who had been declared missing and presumably dead only hours earlier, certainly had not been it. She gasped. Christine's carriage had had an accident two days ago according to the papers, and nobody had seen her since. It was presumed that she had fallen into a river and drowned. How could she have reached Paris unnoticed?

Meg looked up and once again barely suppressed a scream. Erik had followed Christine into the living room, and despite the semi-darkness, Meg clearly could see the mask. Like everybody else, she had accepted the news that the criminal known as the "Phantom of the Opera" or "Opera Ghost" had died in the fire the night of the performance of "Don Juan Triumphant", yet there was no doubt in her mind as to the identity of the gentleman standing in her mother's living room right now. "He is here," she whispered, in shock. "The Phantom of the Opera. He is alive!"

Christine giggled at that. She freed herself from Mme. Giry's embrace and hugged Meg. Then she took Meg's hand and lead her to where Erik stood, silently observing her reunion with the Girys. "Meg," Christine addressed her surrogate sister, "I just realized that the two of you have never been properly introduced. This is Erik. He is the best and most reliable friend you can imagine. I have hurt him badly," her voice faltered, remembering her betrayal so long ago. Then, smiling shyly at Erik, she continued. "But he has forgiven me and we are still friends. I once thought he was the Angel of Music, promised to me by my dying father, now I know that he is a human being like the rest of us, but…" she felt awkward. She thought she sounded like the heroine in a bad novel. "But he has turned out to be an angel after all, for he has been my guardian angel, who saved me and my baby when our carriage was attacked. Without him and his friends I would be as dead as my coachman."

Mme. Giry looked at her two protégés. It felt like a miracle to see them both here, safe and sound, in her little living room. Erik had been declared dead over a year ago, Christine just this morning, and she had grieved their loss. But apparently they had not only survived, but somehow found each other again. She was touched. Erik's feelings for Christine were obvious in the way he looked at her. If anything, his love had grown and deepened. And Christine… Mme. Giry smiled inwardly. Apparently she had been right after all about Christine's feelings for her "Angel". She had supported Erik's secret courtship of Christine at the Opera, had delivered his roses and gifts to her, because she had suspected that Christine showed no interest in any of the young men, because she was comparing them all to her Angel, and that in her opinion they all paled in comparison. Mme. Giry had been so certain that Christine returned Erik's feelings and would learn to accept him with all his faults and despite his face, but somehow things had turned out differently. Watching the young widow now, the way she smiled at Erik, looked at him with genuine affection, the way she talked to him and about him, Mme. Giry knew she had not been mistaken after all. Christine did love Erik, whether she was aware of this fact yet herself, or not.

"Sit down, you two," Mme. Giry told Erik and Christine. "And tell us your story. Erik, don't get me wrong, it is good to see you again. But I had thought you were dead. Would you mind explaining how you survived the fire and how you apparently happened to be in the right place at the right time when Christine's carriage had an accident?"

Erik lead Christine to the nearest armchair and made sure she was comfortably resting, before turning to Mme. Giry. "Antoinette, as you know, Christine is with child and very close to her baby's birth. She has also been through a lot recently. She could do with something to eat, some herbal tea, and then she should go to bed. Once she has been properly taken care of, I will tell you everything in as much detail as you want."

Mme. Giry caught Christine's grateful look at Erik and thought by herself that his chivalrous concern for Christine was heart-warming – and that Christine's heart was obviously on the best way of reaching that same conclusion. She left for the kitchen to prepare a meal for her two unexpected guests, and returned a few minutes later with a pot of steaming herbal tea, some bread, cold meat and some fruit. The two Girys had already eaten, but they both drank some tea as well. Mme. Giry once again observed the couple and was genuinely moved by the way how each of them tried to make sure the other one was eating enough, Erik reminding Christine that she had to feed her baby, and Christine telling him that he needed to gain back some weight.

Once Erik was satisfied that Christine would not be starving anytime soon, he insisted that she go to bed and get some rest. "Will you stay here as well?" Christine asked him. Erik shook his head. "No, Christine," he explained, "we can't both stay here, we would be too much of an inconvenience to this household. I will stay with Nadir and Darius. But one of us will always be near you, watching over you and keeping you safe. We will of course have to take turns, I will not be able to be with you twenty-four hours a day, but you have met Nadir and Darius, and you can rest assured that they will protect you just as well as I do."

Christine nodded, trying to be brave. She had of course known that once they reached Paris, Erik would not be able to stay by her side all the time, but now that it was time to say good-bye, she knew she would miss him terribly. She once again wished she could stay with him forever, safe and protected by her Angel. Christine fought back tears. "When will I see you again, Angel?" she asked softly.

Erik's heart was beating just as fast as hers at this good-bye. He had gotten so used to having Christine near him, in his arms, to be able to take care of her, see to her needs, make sure she was comfortable. They had been reunited only two and half days ago, yet their relationship – their friendship, he reminded himself – was as strong and meaningful as ever. If not more so. He knew that she was in good hands with the Girys and that she would be safe here at least until the funeral on Thursday, when she would have to confront the de Chagny family again. And even once she was with the de Chagnys again, he and his two friends would watch over her and he would be at least able to see Christine from afar. But would it be wise to actually meet her again? He was not so sure. For two reasons. Her safety and her reputation being only one of them. As a new widow, Christine should not be seen with any man, not even a suitable one, even less so with somebody like him. But he also was not sure for how much longer he would be able to keep his own feelings in check. Christine's trusting affection had once again filled his heart with dreams of a happy, normal life. A life, where even he could have a loving wife, like any other man.

Erik's voice was a bit unsteady when he spoke to Christine. "I do not know exactly, but I know that we will see each other again. Soon. I promise that I will not go out of your life again." Christine realized that this was just as hard on Erik as on her. She tried to smile at him, though she felt more like crying and her smile resembled more a grimace. "Thank you for everything, Angel. For saving my life and my baby's life and for bringing me safely to Paris." Her composure suddenly failed her, and overwhelmed by her feelings she threw herself into Erik's arms, hugging him tightly and sobbing into his shirt. Her obvious distress helped Erik to get his own feelings under control again. He comfortingly put his arms around her and stroked her hair.

"Christine, calm down," he cooed into her ear. "Think of your baby. The poor little one has suffered enough excitement recently. You must be calm for your child's sake. There is also no reason for you to be so upset. We will see each other again, soon, I just do not know the exact time and place of our next meeting yet. But I promise it will be soon." He had no idea how he would keep this promise but he knew he would find a way. Somehow. She needed him, probably even more so than he needed her, and he would not fail her. After all, her friendship meant the world to him.

Erik suddenly had an idea. "Antoinette, do you have some paper and a pen?" he addressed their host. Mme. Giry turned to a chest of drawers in the corner and rummaged through one of the drawers, finally producing the requested items. Erik quickly scribbled a few words on the piece of paper, then handed it to Christine. "Here," he told her softly. "Take this. This is Nadir's address, so that you know where I am. Should you ever feel threatened you can contact us there. One of us will always be home. But go there only in an absolute emergency. We do not want to tell Théophile-Auguste where we have our headquarters, right?" She almost smiled at these words and nodded. "I will not betray your whereabouts to him," she promised. "But thank you for telling me where I can find you." She looked up at Erik and for a fleeting moment he had the impression as if she would not mind if he kissed her right then and there. But he quickly reminded himself, that her feelings for him were only those of friendship and that he had promised himself he would not scare her ever again with his true feelings and desires. So he just pulled her head close to his chest and his lips quickly brushed the top of her hair, before he released her.

"Go to bed now, Christine. You need to rest. Promise me that you will take good care of you and rest as much as possible those next few days till the funeral," he asked of her. Christine looked at him once more. "I promise," she whispered, then she tore herself away and followed Meg, who lead her upstairs to show her to the guest room.

The two girls drew all curtains close before they lit a single candle. Meg brought Christine one of her own nightgowns, and as soon as Christine was resting in the bed, she started telling her friend everything that had happened, from the way she had been treated by the de Chagnys, the reason why she had not been able to see Meg and her mother anymore, her isolation at the summer house in Normandy, the condescending treatment by Théophile-Auguste, Raoul's death, her journey to Paris, the attack, how Erik and his friends had known about it all and been there to rescue her and how Erik had brought her home safely. She did leave out a few details, though. She somehow could not get herself to tell Meg that she had allowed Erik to brush her hair, that she had let him touch her belly to feel her baby move, that he had shown her his disfigured face at her request and allowed her to caress it, and least of all, that she and Erik had shared a bed the previous night and slept in each other's arms. She was not exactly sure why she left out these details, but somehow she felt that those were private, that these moments belonged only to her and Erik.

Even though that way she only heard half the story, Meg still thought it was an incredibly romantic tale and she secretly wondered, if Christine would do, what all the heroines in her beloved romance novels always did: fall in love with her savior. After all, Christine was a widow, she was free again, and being saved from certain death was a most romantic way to fall in love with your future husband, Meg thought.

In the meantime, Erik gave Mme. Giry a short overview on Christine's current situation. He asked her repeatedly to make sure, Christine would stay in the house and away from any windows. It was imperative that the de Chagnys would not find out that she was still alive and had arrived in Paris safely. He promised that either Nadir or Darius would pick the three ladies up with a rented carriage (though they would probably use their own horses) on Thursday to bring them to the cemetery in time for the Vicomte's funeral. Erik himself could of course not show himself openly, but he would be at the cemetery as well, ready to do whatever was necessary to protect Christine, should Théophile-Auguste or any of the other de Chagnys act hostilely towards her.

Once he had made sure that Antoinette understood the situation, he asked her to pay particular attention to Christine's state of mind. "Antoinette, you cannot imagine how poorly they treated her," he sighed. "You should have seen her, two weeks ago, before all this had started. She seemed like a lifeless statue in that beautiful garden, her eyes looking at all the flowers, but seeing nothing. It was as if her soul was gone. She looked as if she had no hope and no future anymore. It was heart-breaking." His voice trailed when he thought back to that afternoon, when he had first disobeyed Nadir and gone for himself to see his beloved and had been shocked at what had become of her in slightly more than a year.

Mme. Giry squeezed his hand comfortingly. "Don't worry, Erik. I will take good care of her." Erik thanked her. "She has been so neglected by her husband's family," he added. "She is not used to kindness and friendliness anymore. But she craves affection. She needs to be comforted." Mme. Giry smiled. She knew better. She thought for a moment if she should tell him the truth, that it was him that Christine needed, but then she decided to hold her tongue. It would be far sweeter for the two young people to figure that out themselves.


	13. Funeral

Pooh, this was a busy week. Lots of work, two performances with my choir, a big retirement party for a colleague, where we had organized about an hour of programming (with songs and sketches...) that needed to be rehearsed as well...

but... I am back with an update. As promised, we finally say good-bye to Raoul for good. No fluff this time, I am sorry. :-( I hope that will not affect your willingness to review, though! I cherish every single one of your reviews! Thank you so much for reading.

Oh, and before I forget, I do not own anything, anybody, whatever. No changes here. Now on to the funeral"

Chapter 12 – Funeral

At Mme. Giry's insistence, Christine spent the next few days mostly in bed. Christine understood that the previous few days had been far too adventurous for a woman as close to delivery as she was, and that the confrontation with her in-laws and the emotional strain during the funeral would be just as bad for her baby. Therefore it was her duty towards the child to get as much rest as possible to make sure the little one would not suffer any ill effects from its mother's precarious situation.

While these few days of rest did Christine's body a lot of good after the exhausting journey to Paris, her emotions were in a turmoil. Realization that Raoul was gone forever, that she would never see her husband again, finally hit home. She had loved him, after all, even though those happy days of their honeymoon seemed now almost surreal, like they were somebody else's past, not hers. Too much had happened since then. Too many arguments, too many humiliations by his family, too much suffering and heart-break. Christine felt that Raoul should have defended her more decisively, that most of their estrangement had been his fault, and yet, she could not help but ask herself, if some of their problems had not been her doing. Why had she always been so upset when people gossiped about her life as a performer and suspected she might not be the most virtuous spouse? Why had she not been able to laugh at these ridiculous allegations? Maybe Raoul had taken her reaction as proof that those suspicions were not totally unfounded. Maybe that had been part of the reason why they had grown apart. She also came to realize, that part of her marital problems had probably been caused by a lack of trust on Raoul's side. He had been jealous, and he had suspected that there had been more than friendship between her and her Angel. After all, he had seen her in Erik's arms during the performance of "Don Juan" and he had witnessed her and Erik kissing. Of course this was ridiculous. She had acted her part during "Don Juan" and would have melted into Piangi's arms just the same way as she had done with Erik, and when she had kissed Erik, she had been his fiancée, and had tried to do her best to convince him that she would stay with him. She would not have kissed him otherwise. Why hadn't Raoul quite believed that to be true?

Her thoughts returned to the countless arguments she and Raoul had had, the innumerable times, she had been criticized by her in-laws and Raoul had taken his parents' side. Maybe she should not have been as offended, when the elderly couple had found fault with her? After all, there were lots of things she was not familiar with that they expected from a woman of her new rank, and she knew they would have wanted a daughter-in-law coming from their social circles. Maybe if she had tried harder to fit in, things would not have been quite as bad? If only Raoul had not rejoined the Navy! If only he had not left his old parents and his unborn child and died alone, far away from his family. Christine felt guilty, because it had been the tension between herself and Raoul's parents what had driven him away – to his death. She wondered, were the de Chagnys thinking the same right now? Were they blaming her, or were they blaming themselves like she was blaming herself for Raoul's departure?

The baby in her moved and Christine caressed her belly. Despite their past history together, her heart went out to her in-laws, who had just lost their son. She had not yet had the chance to see, to hold her child, but she already loved him or her with all her heart. She knew without a doubt that losing her child would break her heart. Surely, a Comte and a Comtesse were not above such feelings? Christine was fairly certain that the old couple had loved Raoul every bit as much as he had loved them. Losing him must have been a big shock for them, more so than it had been for her. After all, Christine now felt as if she had already lost Raoul long ago. Every time he had refused to see her side of the situation he had moved a bit further away from her emotionally. The moment he had told her he would leave anyway, even though she finally was carrying his heir, had probably been the most obvious point of their estrangement, but it really had been a gradual thing. She and Raoul had lost each other long before that final separation.

Christine wondered what would have happened if Raoul were still alive and had returned to his family safe and sound. Would she and Raoul have been able to find a way back to each other again? Would their baby have helped them to rekindle their love and get their relationship back on track? For the baby's sake she would have wanted to make peace with Raoul. A child needed a loving environment, and that included a harmonious relationship between the parents.

Christine caressed her belly again. She realized that the main reason she was so upset about Raoul's loss – other than the fact that she didn't want her youthful, handsome husband and childhood friend to be dead, that is – was the fact that child and father could now never know each other. She was convinced that Raoul would have loved the baby despite their marital problems, and she pitied her baby who would have to grow up without a father. Sure, she had lost her own mother at such an early age that she barely remembered her at all, so she had basically grown up with just one parent as well, but still, no father, that seemed like a terrible predicament to her, who had been so close to her beloved father.

Christine silently talked to her dead husband, asking Raoul to forgive her for whatever part of their estrangement had been her fault, and promising him that she would do her best as a single parent to their child, and if his parents let her, she would try to be a daughter to them as well.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry knew that her house was under constant surveillance by Erik and his friends and that Erik usually took the night watches, as he had done before. She had considered inviting him in so that he could spend some time with Christine, but had finally decided against it. After observing the two of them together the night Erik had brought Christine to her, she knew that they were meant to be together and sooner or later they would both realize that as well. As much as she would have wanted to give Erik a chance to be near his beloved Christine, she had come to the conclusion that Christine was not aware of the extent of her feelings for Erik yet, and that her husband's upcoming funeral was enough of an emotional stress on the pregnant young woman. Having to deal with her budding relationship with Erik on top of it all, simply might be too much for the expectant mother. Of course she had not told Erik any of this, she simply had asked him to let Christine rest a few days so that she would be able to emotionally prepare for the funeral. He had understood and accepted her reasoning, even though she had the impression, that not being able to see Christine again soon caused him discomfort. She smiled inwardly. It would not be for long. Mme. Giry had a feeling that the moment the year of mourning for Raoul was over, there would be an engagement..

Xxxx

As promised, on Thursday morning, Nadir showed up in front of Mme. Giry's house with a rented carriage drawn by César and Nadir's own horse to pick up the three ladies and bring them to the cemetery where Raoul's funeral would take place. He informed them that the de Chagnys apparently had no idea that Christine was still alive. Since the young widow had disappeared after the attack on her carriage the previous week and was presumed dead, rumor had it that the funeral would also be kind of a memorial service for her. Théophile-Auguste was now officially acknowledged as the new Vicomte.

For a moment Christine considered not to confront her husband's family ever again, to stay dead to the world and let Théophile-Auguste have the title and the inheritance. But when her baby kicked her, she knew that she owed it to the child to fight for its birthright and to Raoul to prove to him that his spouse was far better than her reputation among the nobility. She would be there to say her final good-bye to him, and she would make sure his old parents got a chance to know their grandchild.

Xxxx

Approximately fifteen minutes before the scheduled start of the funeral, a huge group of mourners had already assembled at the cemetery. Raoul's friends with their wives, wearing expensive new black dresses, a few representatives of the Navy in their pretty uniforms, a large group of servants of the de Chagny household, and some media people eager to write an article about this important event for one or the other major newspaper were joined by onlookers that had no connection to the de Chagny family at all, but wanted to watch the funeral and maybe get firsthand news about the young widow's disappearance.

They all moved aside respectfully when the official de Chagny carriage approached with the late Vicomte's immediate family. The coachman's somber dress and the black crape lining around the family crest reminded everybody that this was not really a social gathering, but that a family had been severely hit by fate.

The carriage stopped in front of the de Chagny mausoleum and the old Comte got out first. His face was impassive, his figure stiff and erect as always. He had never considered it dignified to show emotions in public and he was not going to change his attitude now. Instead he courteously held out his hand to his frail old wife to help her out of the carriage. The Comtesse looked awful. Her red-rimmed eyes clearly showed that she had cried a lot since the news of her son's demise had arrived. All her pride and arrogance had left her, and she fought hard to keep at least a semblance of composure.

The moment, the elderly lady had exited the carriage, a young man in mourning attire jumped out, offering her his arm. "Let me be your son now, ma tante," Théophile-Auguste uttered in his slimy way. "As the new Vicomte, I am not only assuming Raoul's position as the next in line for the title, I will also try my best to fill the void he left behind in your family." The old lady either was too caught up in her own mourning to notice him, or she deliberately ignored her nephew, for she took her husband's arm and slowly made her way towards the entrance of the mausoleum, where the priest was waiting for them, standing next to Raoul's coffin. All Théophile-Auguste could do was follow them, thus publicly demonstrating his new position as the official heir.

The de Chagnys had not quite reached the mausoleum yet, when the clattering of hooves announced the arrival of yet another carriage. Curious, who would dare to arrive later than the late Vicomte's closest family, everybody turned to get a look at the newcomers. To everybody's surprise the carriage was a simple rented one, the two horses not even of the same color or breed and the olive-skinned coachman was obviously a foreigner. He stopped next to the de Chagny carriage, jumped down and opened the door to help his three female passengers out of the carriage. When the Comte recognized the former ballet mistress and her daughter he was about to lose his composure and forget his education. What did these women think? Of course he could not prevent them from attending his son's funeral, but what on Earth possessed them to arrive last, as if _they_ were the main mourners?

Suddenly, despite his efforts to stay in control, the old Comte's face paled visibly. If anybody had been looking at the de Chagny family instead of concentrating on this recently arrived carriage, they would also have noticed that the new Vicomte was in a state of terrible unrest. He fidgeted nervously, his face even whiter than the Comte's, and his eyes were fixed at the third person exiting that simple carriage.

A murmur rose, as the assembled crowd recognized the pale, heavily pregnant young woman in her barely adequate mourning attire. Christine wore the clothes she had been wearing during the attack. She had not wanted to draw attention to herself by getting new ones. At Nadir's instruction she kept the two Girys at her sides at all time, like a shield. Christine also knew that the gardener working on a grave next to the mausoleum was Darius in disguise and that Erik was hiding in the bushes behind the de Chagny crypt. With Nadir behind her, she felt reasonably safe, when she slowly walked up to her in-laws.

Christine respectfully greeted the old couple by inclining her head, then addressed them. "Monsieur le Comte, Madame la Comtesse," her clear voice got everybody's attention. Without as much as looking in the direction of Théophile-Auguste, she continued, "I apologize for being late. I would have preferred to reach Paris unhindered, but as you may have heard, my carriage was attacked, about a day and a half outside of Paris." She looked the old Comte straight in the eye. "They were not ordinary thieves, Monsieur le Comte. They knew who I was. They were laughing, how easy it was to get rid of the Vicomtesse." Théophile-Auguste got more uncomfortable by the minute. This was a detail his henchmen had not told him about. Apparently there was a lot more he did not know, most importantly, how was it possible that this woman was still alive?

The young widow continued. "Hugues, the coachman who was driving me, died in the accident that was meant to harm me and my unborn child. I only survived because God had sent me his guardian angel to watch over me and my baby." She protectively wrapped her arms around her huge belly. The shadow of a smile crossed the young woman's face for a moment. Guardian angel, indeed. Her Angel, Erik. Without him and his two friends she would be dead now and her child would never be born. Of course she could not tell the Comte the whole truth. She went with a half-truth instead. "A group of farmers was nearby, they heard the gunshots and the horses and suspected that somebody might be in danger." That was not too far off. After all, Erik and his two friends had been dressed like local farmers. If her attackers had mentioned them to Théophile-Auguste, they probably had described them as farmers traveling to a nearby city.

"They came to see what was going on and were in time to pull me out of the carriage before it fell into the river. These men saved my life. They helped me hide and brought me safely to Paris on a detour." That was pretty much true, Christine thought. At that moment she glimpsed the rim of Erik's hat between the foliage of the bushes behind her father-in-law's back. Her heart warmed. Her angel was near to protect her. "At my request my saviors brought me to Mme. Giry, who has always been like a surrogate mother to me, where I could rest for a few days to recover from the shock of the attack," she added apologetically. "I am aware that I should probably have contacted you immediately and returned to the de Chagny estate at once. Please forgive me for not doing so. I was scared to death after the attack and I feared for my life." As if unintentionally she suddenly looked up at Théophile-Auguste. There was so much rage and barely contained hatred in his eyes, that she would have been frightened, had she not known that her Angel was watching over her that very moment, as he had been that day when her carriage had been assaulted on the bridge.

The old Comte looked at her coldly. He had not been too heart-broken when news of his daughter-in-law's disappearance and possible death had reached him. It would have been a good way to be rid of this burden. He was not convinced that the child she was bearing was truly his son's and he had thought that she had somehow organized that attack to get away from her late husband's family. If she was carrying a bastard, it was certainly wise for her to fake her own death, maybe marry her lover and start anew somewhere, where nobody knew her. It certainly was better than staying with the de Chagnys without Raoul's support and being found out an adulteress if the child looked nothing like her late husband. He was not too sure if her return meant that there truly was a chance that her child was her late husband's or if she was just bold enough to try and pass her child off as a de Chagny no matter what. Of course he could not get into an argument with her at his son's coffin and with so many onlookers. He gave her a brief nod. "Madame," he addressed her coldly, "it seems you have arrived just in time to pay respect to my son, your husband, for the last time."

With these words, the proud old man turned to the priest, ordering him to finally begin the service. Without further interruption, Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny, was buried in his family's mausoleum, his young widow promising him that she would raise their child to be proud of its father and asking Raoul to forgive her that she had not made him as happy as he had hoped.


	14. De Chagny Family

Finally a new chapter! I tried to put in a little bit for everybody this time: some story development as well as some fluff. I hope you will like it. Please continue with your reviews, I love all your comments!

Of course I still do not own anything or anybody, just to make sure.

Chapter 13 – De Chagny Family

As soon as the funeral was over, Christine, flanked by Mme. Giry and Meg on either side, turned to make her way back to the carriage driven by Nadir, when suddenly the old Comte addressed her. "Madame," his voice was as cold as ice and dripping with contempt, "are you not coming home with us?" Christine stiffened, her hand reaching for Mme. Giry's for support. The former ballet mistress smiled at her encouragingly and pressed her hand to reassure her.

Christine took a deep breath and faced her father-in-law. "Monsieur le Comte," she looked the old man straight in the eyes. "As I have mentioned before, my carriage was attacked by people who knew it was me. This was no random attack, it was directed at me personally. I was the targeted victim. The only explanation I have for this is that somebody wishes me dead. Me and my child," she added. "Therefore I can trust no one. The people responsible for this attack have not been found and brought to justice yet. My baby and I are still at risk. If I am to return to the de Chagny mansion with you, you must therefore allow that I bring Mme. Giry and her daughter with me. I need people around me that I can trust. Servants that may do whatever the highest bidder tells them to do, do not fit that bill. My surrogate mother and sister, however, do. If I can have them around me instead of maids, I will come with you."

The old Comte was seething with fury. He would have loved telling this insolent comedian to get lost, but of course he could not do so in front of all the onlookers. He could not allow her to go with these blasted commoner-women either, because in doing so he would expose his own family to gossip. It was bad enough that she had insinuated that somebody had tried to get rid of her and the child she was carrying. There really was only one thing he could do, give in and allow her to bring the old wench and her hussy of a daughter with her. He had to publicly demonstrate that he was treating his pitiful excuse of a daughter-in-law well, paying attention to her concerns, if he wanted to steer suspicion away from his family. The suspicion that it had been them trying to get rid of her.

The Comte de Chagny gave his son's widow a brief, arrogant nod. "As you wish, Madame," he hissed at her through clenched teeth. "The two ladies may accompany you and wait on you, you will not have to deal with our servants that you deem so untrustworthy." Christine smiled at him warmly. That had gone better than expected and she really _was_ grateful that she could bring Mme. Giry and Meg with her. One of her biggest fears over the past few days had been that she would be pretty helpless during childbirth and a few days after that, and that Erik and his two friends would not really be able to protect her well enough during that time. After all, none of the men could be in the room with her at these times, when she, and the newborn baby would be at their most vulnerable. Mme. Giry, on the other hand, could. An older woman might even be allowed to stay with her during the actual birth process, thus making sure she would not be at the mercy of a doctor or midwife whom she did not trust.

"Thank you, Monsieur le Comte," Christine uttered politely. "I am much obliged. We will follow your carriage and return to the de Chagny mansion with you." With these words, the three women headed towards the carriage they had arrived in and let Nadir help them into it, while the Comte steered his wife and Théophile-Auguste to the other vehicle.

Xxxx

Once they arrived at the de Chagny mansion, Christine headed for her old room, the Girys in tow. The Comte had given orders that the bedrooms next to his daughter-in-law's should be prepared for her two companions and Nadir was asked to return to the Girys' home and bring a few bags that they had already packed in the hope that they would be allowed to stay with Christine.

Christine was exhausted after the double emotional strain the funeral and the confrontation with the old Comte had put on her, and Mme. Giry insisted that she go to bed immediately and rest some more. Christine was not sure she would be able to sleep. Being back in the room where she had lived with Raoul, lying in the very bed in which her baby had been conceived, brought back lots of memories, not all of them good. She was nervous and subject to anxiety attacks, knowing that Théophile-Auguste was staying under the same roof.

Mme. Giry tried her best to calm her down, reminding her that he baby needed her to remain strong and to relax. Christine finally promised she would try to get some sleep, but only if Mme. Giry stayed with her. The older woman pulled up a chair next to Christine's bed and sat down. Christine sighed contentedly and obediently closed her eyes to try and rest. Mme. Giry looked at her and smiled inwardly. She knew exactly what Christine needed and she had made sure the remedy would be near-by. After all, Christine had told her that one of her favorite places at the de Chagny mansion was the large rosarium. She would take Christine there in the afternoon, or better yet, early evening, when it was about to get dark. And she knew who would be there waiting for them. She congratulated herself on the ingenious idea of slipping a small note to Nadir when she had openly handed him the keys for her house so that he could go and fetch her and Meg's bags for them. She knew that Nadir would pass the note to Erik immediately, probably even before going to her house. The note read:

"Meet me and Christine at the rosarium at the de Chagny mansion this afternoon. She needs you."

Xxxx

The moment he had seen to it that his daughter-in-law, who had returned at the most inconvenient time, was shown to her quarters and her two theater friends were taken care of as well, the Comte ordered Théophile-Auguste into his study. The younger man was a bit uncomfortable, especially when he noticed his uncle's mood. He had an inkling he would not enjoy this conversation.

"Is it true?" the old Comte roared at the unsuspecting relative the moment the doors had closed behind them. "Is it true that she was attacked? I thought it was an accident! How come she can go around and say things like this in public?" Théophile-Auguste's face turned a deep purple. He was just as furious as the Comte. "Would you ask me this if the attack had been successful?" he asked, his voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. "Would you really have minded never seeing that wench again?"

The elder man looked at him, speechless. "So she was right," he hissed at his potential successor. "You were trying to get her and the child out of the way. What on earth were you thinking? We de Chagnys are no murderers!" He looked at the younger man with contempt.

"Don't play the virtuous card with me, cher oncle," Théophile-Auguste retorted. "We both know that she has to go. Even Raoul was beginning to regret having married one such as her. And we don't need her bastard either, " he added. "Or do you really think the child she is carrying is his?"

The old Comte faced his nephew. "You are right that there is no room for her here. We do not need a lose woman in our family. But we do not need a murderer either. By trying to have her killed you have dishonored our name just as much as Raoul did when he married her against my will." Théophile-Auguste shivered when he noticed the hidden threat in the old man's voice. The Comte continued, "There are other ways to get rid of her. Ways that will not further dishonor our family. We could for instance marry her off and pay her to leave the country with her new husband. I am sure there are men who will not mind marrying one of her doubtful morals if she has some dowry."

Théophile-Auguste nodded. It probably would not even take a big dowry to find her a new husband, his cousin's widow was certainly beautiful enough to appeal to a man's senses. He once again wondered how it might feel to drag her into his own bed, to rip her clothes off her and force himself onto her, to let her feel his power over her. Would she be scared and fight him or would she enjoy it and put up a fight only for show, to give him the feeling that he had won an important battle? After all, he remembered the rumors about her first lover, the murderous beast who had terrorized the managers of the Opera Populaire and caused the fire that had destroyed the Opera. With a lover like that, she must be used to rough treatment, probably had learned to enjoy more violent sexual practices. A lecherous grin spread across his face. If he had met her under different circumstances, he certainly would not have thought of killing her. A woman with her looks and a past that seemed to indicate she might be able to fulfill the most sadistic man's sexual desires would make a great mistress, indeed.

The old Comte's voice brought Théophile-Auguste back from his voluptuous dreams of what he would like to do with his cousin's widow. "Do you understand?" the old Comte rasped. "Am I making this clear?" Théophile-Auguste had no idea what his uncle was talking about. He realized he had not been listening for several minutes. "Excuse me, mon oncle," he mumbled contritely. "My mind has been wandering. What was it you just said to me? Would you kindly repeat it?"

The Comte de Chagny gave his young relative a furious look. "I said no more attacks on her. After the sensation she caused on the cemetery this morning with her accusations, we cannot afford any more scandal involving this woman. You will leave her alone, or I will myself see to it that the authorities learn more about a certain attack on my son's widow. As I said, I do not need a murderer in my house any more than I need that whore. Is that clear?"

Théophile-Auguste nodded. "Of course, mon oncle. I would not dream of attacking her. In fact, I did not do so." The old man scrutinized his nephew's face. "So you paid murderers to do the dirty work for you. That's even worse, because it shows your lack of courage," his voice was dripping with contempt. "Anyway," he continued, "you will leave the wench alone. Should she give birth to a girl you will be the new Vicomte anyway, no matter whether her child is legitimate or not. In that case I will give her a dowry for her and one for her daughter under the condition that they leave Paris at once so that we may never see either one of them again. Should her child be a boy, it depends. If it is clear the child is a bastard, we can throw her out as a proven adulteress and she will get no money from us at all. But in the unlikely case that she has a son who bears the de Chagny features, I swear to you, that in this unlikely case my grandson will be the new Vicomte and I will find a way to protect my progeny. As to the woman… I will still give her a dowry and marry her off as quickly as possible, making sure she leaves Paris at once, without the child."

Théophile-Auguste gritted his teeth. He knew he had lost. He had to give in and do as asked by his uncle. After all, he needed to remain in the old man's good graces, since he once again needed money and his other sources had all run dry long ago.

Xxxx

It was late afternoon, when Christine woke up. She felt a bit better, though the thought of going down and meeting her in-laws and that terrible Théophile-Auguste at dinner made her feel queasy. Mme. Giry nodded in understanding. No, a stiff dinner in a hostile atmosphere, where several courses of rich food were served, was not right for a woman eight months pregnant. "You do need to eat, though," she told Christine, "the baby needs nourishment. But we can ask for a light meal to be brought to your room. And in order for you to gain some appetite," she added slyly, "why don't we go out in the garden for a while? The fresh air will do you a lot of good."

Christine was not sure she wanted to go out, but Meg, who was dying to see a bit of the beautiful garden, joined her mother's pleas and finally convinced Christine that it was a good thing to go for a short walk.

Once in the garden the three ladies wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, before Mme. Giry pretended to remember the rosarium. "Oh Christine," she suddenly exclaimed. "Isn't there a beautiful rosarium somewhere? I think you once told me it was your favorite place here at the de Chagny estate?" Christine blushed. She had indeed mentioned to her surrogate mother how much she loved the beauty of this particular part of the garden. Yes, she preferred the rosarium to the rest of the garden, because she loved roses. All of them, the white ones, the yellow ones, the light pink colored ones, but her favorite ones were the deep red ones – the kind of roses her Angel used to send her to her dressing room. She realized only now that she had loved the de Chagny roses for that very reason. Even though she had blocked every memory of her Angel from her mind when she had lived here with Raoul, deep down, in her subconscious, these roses had reminded her of her Angel and had made her feel at home.

Christine pointed to their right. "The roses are over there," she explained. "At this time of the year they should be in full bloom." Mme. Giry seemed enthusiastic. "How wonderful, let's have a look!" she suggested, urging Christine and Meg in the direction of the rosarium. She had noticed Christine's blush and was fairly certain she knew what the young woman was thinking. "You do like roses very much, don't you?" she probed a bit further, once they approached the rosebushes. Christine sighed. There was no point in denying it. "Yes, I have always loved them, which is why my Angel… Erik… used to send me roses at the Opera Populaire." Tears were suddenly streaming down her face. She missed Erik terribly. She had not seen him since he had brought her to the Girys, except for a brief glimpse at the cemetery this morning. Mme. Giry put her arms around the sobbing young woman. She knew Christine would be smiling soon, since she had spotted a cloaked shadow between the bushes. "Now, now, Christine," she tried to calm her surrogate daughter. "You miss Erik, don't you?" Christine nodded, still sobbing. "Ssh," Mme. Giry whispered. "Promise me not to scream, just remain silent, will you?" Christine nodded again. "Then turn around," Mme. Giry advised, "he is waiting for you."

Christine turned around and saw Erik step out of the shadow. A big smile spread across her face and her eyes sparkled. "Angel," she whispered, "I missed you so much!" Erik just opened his arms and pulled her close. "Don't cry, Christine," he murmured. "I am here. I promised we would see each other again soon, and I am keeping my promise."

Mme. Giry was satisfied with her work. Her two protégés obviously needed nothing and nobody except each other. "I will leave the two of you alone for a few minutes," she explained. "After all, good friends like the two of you are, don't need a chaperon. I realize that you need to talk, but make it short. We do not want anybody to come looking for us here, Christine, or do we?" Christine shook her head. "I know that Erik should not be seen here. We will be careful," she promised.

Mme. Giry dragged Meg a few steps away to give the young couple some privacy. Once they were alone, Erik's long fingers gingerly reached for Christine's cheeks, drying her tears. "Do not cry," he repeated. "I am here with you, and in my thoughts I am always with you, even when we do not see each other. Remember that and draw strength from this knowledge, when the de Chagnys treat you poorly." Christine smiled at him. He had not forgotten his promise, he was here with her. He was not just her protector, her bodyguard, he was also her friend. He knew that she needed his presence, that she needed the physical contact after having been alone and abandoned for so long, and he had come to give her just that. "I saw you this morning at the cemetery," Erik continued. "You were fabulous when you confronted the old Comte. I was proud of you." Christine beamed. Her Angel was proud of her. What more could she wish for?

"Will you come here every evening?" she asked him. "Can we meet here regularly?" Erik shook his head. "While I will be standing watch here regularly, mostly at night, it will not be possible for us to meet every day. And most importantly, we cannot always meet in the same place. If we did, we would draw somebody's attention. We have to come up with different times and different meeting places, sometimes I will not be able to see you for a few days, but you must always know that I am near and that my friends and I are watching over you and protecting you. Even when you cannot see us." Erik's voice trembled. He had put all his love into these words to reassure the shaking woman in his arms. As much as he loved her and as much as he desired her and longed for her love in return, when she was lying in his arms so trustingly and when he could sense all her insecurity and fear because of her current situation, he always managed to put her needs first. He knew that his own problems, his longing for her, his physical desire for her, could wait. He had to help her out of her dilemma first, and then… he would have to accept that all she felt for him was friendship, but he would be dealing with that blow when it was time. Right now, all that mattered was Christine's safety and well-being. He pulled her close once more, then he whispered into her ear, "I have to go now. Till next time. Remember, I am always near, I am always with you, even when you do not see me."

His arms released her and he disappeared into the shadow. Christine turned around and faced Mme. Giry. "Did you know..?" The older woman smiled. "Of course. I have to make sure you are relaxed and feeling well, for the sake of your baby. And I know that Erik is one of your best friends and important to you. So I let him know where he could find us this evening." Christine hugged her. "Thank you so much. He really is my very best friend in the world. I hurt him so badly, and despite all he is still loyal to me." Mme. Giry nodded. "I know, child, I know. You mean a lot to him as well, but you know that anyway. I realize you are in some trouble here and it will take a while till all the problems with your in-laws will have been sorted out, but with Erik by your side, I have no fear. All will end well." Christine smiled at her. She hoped so much that Mme. Giry was right and that all would end well. Little did she know that Mme. Giry was not exclusively thinking about her troubles with the de Chagny family, but about the relationship between her and her Angel...


	15. Birth

I have been waiting so long for this chapter, I had to write it immediately after the previous one! Yes, we are finally about to meet the third member of our future family - Christine's baby. Well, we all know that mummy Christine is going to love the little one, but how will the men react? What will the grandfather think of this child - and what about the future stepfather? ;-) Find out by reading this chapter! (and yes, I have had that last sentence of this chapter in mind for a looong time now! I always knew he would say that).

I hope it's fluffy enough for everybody's taste! They usually cling to each other whenever they see each other, and everybody else has figured it out already, except for the two in question. So no kisses yet, and the magical three words will have to wait for a while longer as well...

Oh, and yes, "de Chagny" is probably a synonym for pig. But then, that explains why they have such a low opinion of Christine. They think everybody is like them. And we have not seen the last of Théophile-Auguste yet...

Anyway, as you know, I do not own anything or anybody, but I loooove me some reviews, so keep them coming!

Chapter 14 – Birth

Several weeks had gone by rather uneventfully. Mme. Giry and Meg were still staying with Christine at the de Chagny mansion and keeping an eye on her, while Erik and his two friends still roamed the garden and made sure Théophile-Auguste was not planning any new attack on his cousin's widow.

In the first two weeks after the funeral, Erik and Christine managed to meet each other occasionally, but the closer Christine got to the birth of her child, the harder it became for her to move and she barely left the house anymore. Even though Nadir reassured him that this was perfectly normal, Erik could not help worrying about Christine once she started staying in the house. His experience with child-birth was non-existing. He had never bothered studying up on this particular subject, since he had not expected ever to be in a situation where such knowledge might come in handy. Now that his Christine was about to give birth, he grew more nervous every day. What if something went wrong? What if Christine died? This thought frightened him more than anything. Christine was so young, so delicately built, surely she was not meant to bear children? One thing he knew for certain, if he lost her, he would not survive. In the nervous state he found himself in, he once again promised himself that he would never ever bother her with his feelings again, that he would be content to be her friend and protector, if only she survived the birth of her child, if only she got through this terrible ordeal safely and made a complete recovery. Of course he knew that the birth process was also risky for the child, but the Vicomte's brat was not exactly his main concern, until he remembered how much Christine already loved her unborn child. Should the baby be harmed during birth, Christine would certainly suffer. He therefore decided that for Christine's sake, he also hoped for the baby to get through this unharmed. He even promised himself to get over his aversion against the de Chagny family and to at least try to accept Christine's child – a child that would always remind him of her marriage to his rival and of the fact that another man had enjoyed what he desired with all his heart and would never be able to experience.

Xxx

One warm day in August, when Nadir arrived at the premises in the early afternoon to relieve Darius, who had had the morning watch, he found his servant in a state of agitation. "Oh Master," Darius whispered, "I think the moment has arrived. Miss Christine's baby will be born today. I have heard her scream, the way a woman in labor will scream. She still has some time till the actual birth, her screams come in long intervals, but my guess is, the baby will arrive in a few hours, maybe in the late afternoon or early evening."

At that very moment a blood-curdling scream filled the air. Nadir nodded. "You are right," he said. "The baby is coming. Go home immediately and tell Erik. I have a feeling he would like to be as close to her as possible in this situation." He sighed. Just like Mme. Giry he had realized that Erik's love was not as hopeless as the latter seemed to think, and just like her he was foreseeing a wedding in the not so distant future. He knew how much Erik wanted to be at Christine's side right now, to comfort her and help her through the painful experience, like any man would want to do for the woman he loved, even though the child she was about to deliver was not his. But, Nadir thought by himself, if all went as he and Mme. Giry expected, Erik would soon become the baby's stepfather.

Darius left to alert Erik, and Nadir hid among the bushes, looking for any movement behind the curtains of Christine's bedroom. About an hour later Erik arrived. Nadir smiled inwardly. Who would have thought the fearsome Opera Ghost could be reduced to such a nervous mess? He put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Take it easy, Erik. This is all perfectly normal. I am sure she will be fine," he tried to calm the nervous man. The nervous stepfather-to-be, he thought by himself and wondered what Erik's feelings for the baby would be, a baby that was the child of his beloved Christine, but also of the man who had taken her away from him.

Another piercing scream came from the open window of Christine's bedroom. Erik paled visibly. "Oh my God, Nadir," he stammered, "she is in excruciating pain. This is inhuman. Surely she won't survive this." Nadir tried to sound encouraging. "Nonsense. She is not the first woman to have a child, all will go well. You must firmly believe this. In a few hours, once the baby is here, you will laugh at your current fear."

Erik was not convinced. Hearing Christine scream like that without being able to hold her and comfort her, was sheer torture for him. "If only I could be with her and try to help her bear this", he sighed. "She needs a friend more than ever right now and I am not there. I feel as if I am failing her." Nadir patted Erik's shoulder. "She knows that you cannot be with her, Erik, but I am sure she also knows that you would be there if you could. And she is not alone in this. Mme. Giry will be with her the whole time." Erik knew that that was true. Antoinette had promised him that she would not leave Christine's side during child-birth. Antoinette would do her best to help Christine.

Nadir's voice woke Erik from his reverie. "Sit down, Erik and relax. All you can do now is wait. It will be a while before the baby finally arrives, especially since this is her first time. But keep in mind that this is a perfectly natural process and that thousands of women go through it every day. She will be fine." Erik nodded, unconvinced, but he settled down comfortably between the bushes and waited.

Xxxx

Christine was scared. She knew the birth of her baby was imminent. Her water had broken in the late morning, and ever since that moment waves of searing pain kept shooting through her body. At first there had been long intervals between these attacks, but the intervals got shorter and shorter. Mme. Giry had stayed with her ever since the first contraction, when the terrified young woman had feared she might not survive another one. Mme. Giry had done her best to make the young mother as comfortable as possible, but the longer she was in labor, the more exhausted Christine felt.

Christine's screams had not gone unnoticed in the house, and the old Comte had asked if he should send for a doctor. Mme. Giry had told him to wait. The intervals between Christine's contractions were still fairly long and it would be a few more hours before a midwife would be needed. The Comte had been satisfied with this answer. Of course he had to pretend that he was taking good care of this impossible daughter-in-law of his, but if her own foster mother or whatever that theater person was to her told him to wait, he was in no hurry to call for a doctor or midwife. In fact, the easiest way out of this compromising situation would be if she died in childbirth, and her bastard with her. Then the family could pretend she had never existed and carry on with their lives.

Mme. Giry was relieved that the Comte had not insisted in calling a doctor immediately. She needed some time with Christine alone. She pulled up a chair at Christine's bedside and took Christine's hand in hers. "This will take a while longer, Christine, but it is imperative that you remain relaxed," she instructed the young woman, then told her exactly, what her experience had been when giving birth to Meg so many years ago. "Of course it hurts," she explained. "But think of the joy when you finally will be able to hold your child." She smiled at Christine encouragingly. "And once the baby is there, you will soon be on your feet again," she continued. Christine understood the implication. "Erik," she whispered. "When this is over, I will be able to see my Angel again." Mme. Giry nodded. "There is something else, I want to tell you," she continued. "I have made sure that whoever of the men is on watch once you go into labor, will inform Erik." Christine looked at her questioningly. "Yes," Mme. Giry smiled. "He is there, somewhere in the garden. He wants to be as close to you in this as possible. I thought you might want to know that." Christine beamed. "He is the best friend I could wish for," she murmured dreamily. Weeks ago she had hoped that Raoul would be with her during child-birth, but knowing that Erik was out there in the garden, suffering through all this with her, was even better. The best, of course, would have been, if Erik could have been right there, in the same room with her, holding her in his strong arms and comforting her.

Xxxx

In the late afternoon Mme. Giry finally decided, it was time to call a midwife. To Christine's utter horror, the Comte entered the room together with the burly woman and showed no intention of leaving again, when the midwife lifted Christine's blanket and began to examine her patient. Christine blushed with shame as she lay there, her legs spread, the lower half of her body exposed to her father-in-law's eyes. She felt humiliated and soiled. "Monsieur le Comte," she pleaded with the old man. "Would you please step out until your grandchild has been born?" While speaking her hands reached for the blanket, trying desperately to cover herself.

The midwife grabbed her hands. "No, Madame," she admonished. "You cannot cover yourself now. Your baby's head will appear soon, and you do not want to suffocate the little one, now do you?" Christine shook her head. She definitely did not want to harm her child. The midwife then turned to the old man. "Monsieur le Comte," she began hesitantly. "Maybe you would like to wait outside. Child-birth is a female affair, after all and I am sure Madame would be more relaxed with just us women around."

The Comte laughed. "Maybe in the households of commoners child-birth is considered to be exclusively a female affair," he retorted. "In families like ours, it is the duty of the head of the family to attend the process to make sure there is no foul play."

Christine stiffened. She knew there was nothing she could do. Mme. Giry squeezed her hand to show her sympathy and wiped the sweat from Christine's forehead. There was no time for Christine, though, to further dwell on the indignity of her situation, since another contraction shot through her body, the pain almost unbearable.

The midwife seemed satisfied. "Now push," she told Christine. "If you do it right, the head will be out with your next contraction." From now on, Christine concentrated on the midwife's instructions, and about fifteen minutes later, she heard the first screams of her baby. Still in pain, she smiled. "May I see my child?" she asked weakly. She was exhausted. The midwife smiled. "Just let me clean the two of you up a bit, then you can hold him," she said. Christine looked at her. "Him?" she asked. The other woman nodded. "Yes, you have a strong and healthy son. My congratulations, Madame."

The Comte bit his lips. He had hoped the child would be a daughter. A boy would be considered the new Vicomte, unless he could prove he was a bastard. But how could he do that? "Show me the boy," he commanded harshly. Mme. Giry, who had been bathing the child, handed the baby to him. The Comte paled. Of course it was too early to tell, but the child seemed to bear the de Chagny-features. He turned the baby around and looked at the child's back. The moment he spotted the unusually shaped birthmark between the little boy's shoulder blades, he knew he was holding his grandson, for he himself had the same birthmark in the same place, as his son Raoul had had, as almost all male de Chagnys had.

"Welcome to this world, young Vicomte," he said to the screaming baby. "As head of the family, I name you Philippe Raoul Antoine." Christine cleared her throat. This was her child. Why was she not asked what she wanted to call her son? "And Gustave," she added. The Comte sneered at her. "Gustave?" he asked. The young mother nodded. "My father's name. My son should have one name from my side of the family as well." The old Comte relented. He had not expected this child to be actually his son's, but with the distinctive birthmark there was no doubt of the child's parentage. The baby was definitely his grandson. He therefore was willing to be generous. "Philippe Raoul Antoine Gustave, it is then," he agreed.

"May I hold him now?" Christine asked again. The midwife turned to the Comte. "May I?" she asked politely, then simply took the newborn from his grandfather's hands and put him into his mother's arms. Christine looked at her son and all the pain and the humiliation of the past few hours were forgotten. Her son was worth every bit of it. She looked at his little wrinkled red face and tiny hands and smiled with delight. "Philippe," she whispered. "My son."

Xxxx

About an hour later, the Comte and the midwife had left the room to let the young mother rest. Little Philippe was lying in his crib, fast asleep. Mme. Giry had stayed with Christine. She was trying to convince her to do the same as her son and get some sleep as well. Finally the young woman closed her eyes. Mme. Giry sat down next to the bed. She was glad everything had gone well. The baby was strong and healthy and the midwife had assured her that Christine would be out of bed again in a few days, since everything was fine and therefore no complications were to be expected.

Mme. Giry was about to doze off as well, when she suddenly heard somebody call her name. "Antoinette, pst, Antoinette!" She looked around, but could not see anybody. "Antoinette!" This time she was sure the voice was coming from the balcony. She cautiously approached the big French window. Once there she spotted the cloaked shadow pressed against the wall. "Erik," she whispered relieved. "What are you doing here?" He hesitated. "Christine…" he mumbled like somebody expecting bad news. "How is she?" His worry was almost palpable. Mme. Giry was touched. "She is fine, Erik, you need not worry," she said. "If you are careful, you may come in and see for yourself, just wait, I will lock the door first, so that we cannot be surprised."

As soon as she had locked the door, Erik slipped into the room and went to Christine's bedside. He felt like his worst fears had come true, when he saw how pale she was and how exhausted she looked. Mme. Giry put a hand on his shoulder. "It went well, Erik. She will be fine, believe me," she murmured. Christine stirred and opened her eyes. Her face lit up when she recognized Erik. "Angel," she whispered, still very weak. "You came!"

Erik fell to his knees next to her bed and gently took her hand in his. "You must rest, Christine, please promise me. You need to get well again." She smiled at him, her free hand reaching for his uncovered cheek and caressing it. "Do not worry, Erik. The worst is over, I will recover." Erik's heart pounded heavily. The way she looked at him, with so much genuine affection, almost could make him believe that one day she might be able to open her heart to him.

A shadow crossed her face. She remembered the humiliation she had gone through. "The Comte was here when I gave birth," she whimpered, "he saw me… exposed." She had not planned on telling Erik about her shame, the words had escaped her before she could stop herself. Erik's muscles tightened. His anger rose. How could that arrogant old nobleman treat his Christine like a whore who had no feelings of decency? He felt the need to strangle the old man to punish him for what he had done to the fragile young woman. One look at Christine's face, though, calmed him down. She was in distress and his temper did not help her. She needed him now.

Erik took the sobbing woman in his arms. "Shh," he cooed to her. "Don't think about it anymore. It was a vile thing for him to do, but the only person he has dishonored with his acts is himself, not you." He rocked her like a baby and she relaxed against his arms. It meant a lot to her that her Angel understood how badly she needed comfort after this experience, and how he did not seem to think less of her because of it.

After a while Christine calmed down. She suddenly remembered that she had not told Erik about her son yet. "Angel, I have a little son," she looked at him, radiant in her motherly pride. "He is adorable. Have you seen him yet?" Erik shook his head.

Christine pointed towards the crib. "Have a look at him," she told Erik. "You saved his life, when you pulled me out of that carriage, that makes you something like his godfather. His protector." Erik cautiously approached the crib. He was not sure he was interested in the child. He had no experience whatsoever with newborn babies and he did not think he would get excited over such a helpless bundle – especially when it looked like the late Vicomte. He looked at the sleeping infant and scrutinized the wrinkled red face. He did not find the little boy particularly attractive and could not quite understand Christine's enthusiasm. Was this normal? Did all babies look like that?

Christine looked at him expectantly. She obviously was waiting for his opinion on her son. Erik was not quite sure what he could say that would not be too bad a lie and not honest enough to hurt her feelings, when the little one started to make whimpering noises and opened his eyes. Erik gazed at the baby in wonder. Christine's beautiful brown eyes were looking back at him from the little red face. He turned to Christine, a rare smile on his face. "He has your eyes!"


	16. Bonding

Thank you all for the reviews! I am glad you liked the previous chapter. In defense of the old Comte I have to say, though, that previously, especially with royal families, it was customary to have large groups of courtiers in attendance whenever a heir was born. But of course, the de Chagnys are not royalty. And they are all a bit on the lecherous side, are they not? Think of Théophile-Auguste. And what did Raoul do in the wedding night? He stripped and told Christine to remove her nightgown. That's not exactly how you treat a seventeen-year old virgin... though he was probably the best of the lot, he did have some similarity with his relatives in that regard.

Just to remind you, I do not own anything or anybody. And I do not know exactly when the next chapter will be ready. I have a rather busy week ahead of me and I will have a house guest over the next weekend, so I guess it might take 10-12 days till the next update. But there is a good chance that then there will be two or three chapters within a few days to make it up to you for the wait.

Chapter 15 – Bonding

A few days later the new mother was well enough to leave the bed. She was still a bit weak and her whole body felt sore, but the midwife who checked on her regularly was very satisfied with her progress. Two days after the little Vicomte's birth, mother and child were allowed to venture out on the balcony and enjoy the nice August day. Christine was happy about this. She had not seen Erik since the night she had given birth, but knew that he had been worried about her. As much as she hoped he would come for a brief visit again the next evening, she understood that such a visit would put him at great risk of being discovered and that he had only come that first night because he needed to see with his own eyes that she was fine. By going out on the balcony with her little son she could now give a clear signal that all was well with her and the baby. Even if Erik was not on watch at that time, his friends would tell him that she was up and about again.

Christine's thoughts wandered from Erik to her son. In her opinion he was the cutest infant ever. She never tired looking at him and observing every movement of her child. She had asked to be allowed to breast-feed him, which was considered very vulgar by her noble relatives. Her mother-in-law, who had looked at the infant only briefly before she started crying, since the little grandson reminded her so much of his late father, was downright shocked, when Christine announced that she would feed her son herself. The old Comte was not pleased at all either, he would have preferred to separate his heir from this unsuitable mother of his as soon as possible, but the midwife had taken Christine's side and reminded the de Chagnys that breast-feeding was in the child's best interest. The old Comte had given in at that point. As much as he hated his daughter-in-law, as long as she was necessary for his grandson's development and growth, he would have to endure her presence. Christine was finally allowed to breast-feed little Philippe; though the Comte promised himself that as soon as the little Vicomte had been weaned off, he would somehow get rid of the child's mother.

Xxxx

Théophile-Auguste had moved to the de Chagny mansion immediately after the funeral. After his conversation with the old Comte he had been very confident that he was to remain the Vicomte and future heir, for in his opinion, Christine would either give birth to a girl, or to a male bastard. He was fairly certain that the old Comte shared this opinion and considered him to be his rightful successor.

When Christine had gone into labor he had been nervous nevertheless. Of course there was a small chance that he child would not only be a boy but also unmistakably a de Chagny. What would he do if the child turned out to be his cousin's after all? What if his uncle recognized the child even when there was some doubt, just to spite him, to punish him for having brought dishonor to the noble de Chagny name by trying to get rid of the woman when it was still time?

Théophile-Auguste was pacing the living room while his cousin's widow was in labor. The longer the birth process took, the more nervous he got. He was hoping for a girl. Or maybe a stillborn child. Or an obvious bastard, an ugly little monster resembling her disfigured lover; though if he were thinking straight, he would have been aware that said monster had been declared dead over a year ago and therefore could not possibly be the child's father. When he suddenly heard a baby crying, he stopped dead in his tracks. So the child had been born and was obviously strong and healthy. But what was it? Girl? Boy?

Théophile-Auguste was still pondering his situation when the old Comte entered the room. The young man looked at his uncle nervously, the unspoken question clearly visible on his face. "The new Vicomte has been born today, his name is Philippe Raoul Antoine… Gustave," the old Comte announced. Théophile-Auguste was speechless. That the old man would acknowledge the child was about the last thing he needed in his precarious financial situation.

"What?" he gulped, unable to articulate a complete sentence. "Don't tell me you will accept this bastard into our family! Are you out of your mind?" The elder man rose his fist in anger. "How do you dare talk to me like that?" he thundered at his nephew. "I have acknowledged the child because he is my grandson. There is no doubt about it and you'd better get used to the idea that you are _not_ the new Vicomte. My grandson is."

Théophile-Auguste laughed nervously. "How can you be so sure? A baby's features are not clearly defined yet. Maybe when your new Vicomte gets a bit older he will not look even remotely like a de Chagny," he objected. "Then you might be sorry for having accepted him so hastily and without due consideration." The old man shook his head. "It is possible that my grandson's face will change with time and maybe he will resemble his mother more later on. He does have her eyes," he added, slightly disgusted, as if that were a bad thing. "But there is one characteristic he will always have, and which will always mark him as a true de Chagny. He has the birthmark." Théophile-Auguste paled. "The birthmark?" he stammered, "you mean the unique de Chagny birthmark?" The Comte nodded. "Yes, the one that most male de Chagnys have." He looked Théophile-Auguste in the eye. "Though there are a few known exceptions, are there not?" He smirked. Théophile-Auguste shivered. His uncle had touched a sensible issue. While his face clearly proved him to be a true de Chagny as well, he was one of the exceptions. His back did not show the distinctive birthmark.

"You may leave the mansion now, cher neveu," the old Comte continued. "Your presence here was only justified as long as you were considered the new Vicomte. The birth of my grandson has put him in that position. Since you have already tried once to get rid of my heir, your continued presence here will put him at risk. I warn you once again to leave my family alone. I will protect my son's child against you, and I won't tolerate any more attempted murders."

Théophile-Auguste's face was as white as the wall when he looked at his uncle. "And the woman?" he hissed, "are you going to keep her around as well?" The old Comte nodded. "For the time being. As long as my grandson needs her, she will stay here. We also have to make a big showing everywhere that we are treating her well, to make people see how unfounded her accusations at the cemetery were. This will make us look good and her look like an idiot. Once the child is a bit older and Raoul has been buried for more than a few weeks, we will find a way to get that woman out of our family. Maybe we can marry her off to some commoner, somebody who owes us a favor or something. We'll see about this when the time comes. The woman is none of your concern anyway." The Comte looked at his nephew. "Now leave. Get packed. I will give order that Jean will ready a carriage in one hour, to drive you to your own apartment." A sardonic smile passed over the old man's features. "Just so you know, Jean is the brother of Hugues, the man that died in the attack on the bridge…"

Xxxx

About a week later, Christine was taking a short walk in the garden, her son safely nestled in her arms, Meg and Mme. Giry at her sides. Mme. Giry and Meg were almost as proud of little Philippe as his own mother and behaved towards him like a loving grandmother and aunt. They shared Christine's opinion that he was the cutest thing alive. While all three women were relieved that the Comte had recognized the boy as his grandson and would defend the baby's rights, they all knew that the little Vicomte's birth must have come as a shock to Théophile-Auguste, who had already behaved as if the title and the family assets would be his. They knew that the danger was far from over.

When they reached one of their favorite places, a little pergola, overgrown with laburnum and clematis, they sat down to rest a bit. After a while Mme. Giry asked Meg to accompany her to a nearby raspberry bush, so that they could collect a few berries, leaving Christine and the baby alone. Since they could watch the entrances to the pergola from where they were picking berries, they knew that Christine and Philippe would be safe.

Since Mme. Giry had pressed her hand before she asked Meg to go get raspberries with her, Christine was not particularly surprised when Erik stepped out from between the thick underbrush only moments after the two Girys had left. She smiled at him. "Do you believe it now, that I am fine, Angel?" she asked. "You were so worried about me, when Philippe was born." Erik's relief at seeing her so well again was quite obvious. He nodded, unable to anything, she was even more beautiful than ever. Motherhood definitely did become her. Her body had not quite returned to the way it had been before her pregnancy, she still had a bit of a belly, but there was such a radiance in her features, such an inner glow, that his heart ached with longing for her.

Christine broke the slightly awkward silence. "Do you want to hold my son, Erik?" she asked him. Erik stared at her in shock. "I.. I am not sure," he stammered. "I have never held a baby before. I do not think I know how to do this and I do not want to harm him." Christine smiled. "Then it is high-time that you learn," she stated. "How old are you, thirty-something? And you have never held a baby?" She shook her head unbelievingly. Didn't everybody want to hold a baby? Weren't these little infants irresistible? How had Erik managed to grow that old without ever holding one?

"Here, come, let me show you," she insisted. "It's not that hard. You will do fine." She put her son into Erik's arms, showing him how he had to support the baby's head. Erik gingerly accepted the little boy, careful not to hurt the fragile little body. He was more than a bit nervous. Nobody had ever asked him to hold their infant. Who would trust a monster like him with such a young child? To his utter surprise, he enjoyed the experience. The baby's smell was indescribable, but somehow intoxicating. The child was light as a feather, and the little boy's skin was not as red and wrinkled anymore as it had been the night of his birth, it now was a cute shade of rosy pink. But the most wonderful thing about this infant were still his eyes. The little boy looked at Erik with Christine's eyes.

Christine smiled at the two of them. She had hoped that Erik would like little Philippe. She still felt bad for her son that he would have to grow up without a father, but she remembered that Erik had done a pretty good job helping her over the loss of her own beloved papa, and deep down she hoped he would be able to do the same for Philippe. Of course the fact that the child so closely resembled his dead father had made her a little anxious. What if Philippe reminded Erik too much of her betrayal and of the rival he had hated? What if he was not able to accept her child? But the way how Erik's free hand playfully grasped for the boy's tiny fingers, the ecstatic look on her Angel's face told her that her worries had been unfounded. Her little son was already finding his way into Erik's heart.

After a while Christine took Philippe back into her arms. Looking up at Erik she shyly asked, "Let him see you, please!" Erik gazed at her in panic. Was she seriously asking him what he thought he had understood? She could not possibly want him to remove his mask in front of the baby? Surely the child would be scared to death! Christine noticed Erik's discomfort. She knew how much it cost him to bare his disfigured face to anyone. Her left hand reached for his. "Please, Erik. I want the two of you to become good friends, just like you and me. In order for that to happen he needs to know you. He is too young to understand that your face is… unusual. I am sure he won't be scared. He is my son after all," she added.

Erik hesitated. He understood Christine's point. If he was to stay in touch with Christine even once the current situation with the de Chagnys would have been resolved – and he desperately hoped she would allow him to – then her child needed to know the truth about his face. He would have to eventually show himself to the boy. On the other hand, the baby was only a few days old, still very tiny and fragile-looking. He was not sure what kind of effect – of permanent damage to the infant's psyche – his hideous face might have. He feared to harm the child. But if he was honest with himself, he feared rejection just as much.

The baby was struggling in Christine's arms, producing cute baby-sounds. "Look at him," Christine told Erik. "He is quite happy. He liked being held by you. Don't worry. I know you will both be fine." She smiled at her angel encouragingly. Erik was not quite convinced. "Are you sure you want me to do this?" he asked again, about to give in to her pleas. Christine gave him another encouraging look. "Yes, Angel," she murmured. "Please, do it for me."

Erik resolutely reached for the straps of his mask and slowly untied it. Christine was smiling at him and looking at him with so much affection in her eyes that there was nothing in the world he would not have done for her if she looked at him like that. How much he loved her and how eager he was to do whatever would make her happy! He took a deep breath to get a grip on his nervousness and finally removed the mask.

"Thank you," Christine's smile deepened. Erik felt in heaven. Not only did she not shy away from the monstrosity that was his face, she seemed to be happy to see him without the mask! She then turned to her baby. "Look, Philippe," she cooed, "this is Erik, he is mummy's best friend. He already likes you very much and he just held you a few minutes ago. He protected both of us before you even were born. I hope you and Erik will become very good friends over time as well. Now have a good look at him. He is very special." With that she held the little boy so that he could see Erik's face.

Erik stiffened. He prepared himself for rejection. That Christine was able to smile when confronted with his deformity, was a miracle. He could not expect the young baby to react the same way. Surely the boy would start to cry at once. To his utter surprise, the baby did not seem to care. The infant continued to struggle in his mother's arm and to produce his unintelligible baby-sounds. Christine beamed. "See," she whispered, happy that her little experiment had succeeded. "I knew he would not mind. He now knows that you are our friend and your face will never be an issue with him any more than it is with me."

Erik did not know what to say. He was so moved, he had to fight back tears. He felt blessed. After all he had been through in his life because of his blasted face, he had finally found somebody, who not only tolerated his face but could look at it affectionately. And now a second person had accepted him. As young as the little Vicomte was, the fact that he did not seem scared by Erik's disfigurement meant the world to the latter. He knew that he would be able to love Christine's child, not only because the boy was part of her, but also, because the child would be filling another void in his life. He had always dreamed of a family, of a normal life with a loving wife, just like any normal man had. Christine did not exactly return his feelings, but having her friendship and trust was the next-best thing to actually having her as his living wife. And little Philippe… well, Erik liked children. He had enjoyed taking care of Christine when she had only been a little girl, right after her father's death. Of course Erik had never expected to have children of his own one day, but after having been able to hold little Philippe, he knew that deep down in his heart he had longed for a child just as much as he had longed for a wife. Being a friend and protector to little Philippe was almost as good as having a child of his own.

Christine watched Erik, deeply moved herself. She knew she would never be able to understand how much it meant to him to be accepted face and all, not just by her, but by the baby as well. But from his reaction she could see that he was used to rejection and fear. He, who could be so loving and caring, had obviously not received much love in his life. Her heart went out to him. She promised herself that she would show him as much affection as possible. He was her best friend and he deserved so much better than he had got so far.


	17. Music

Chapter 16 – Music

August was nearing its end and little Philippe was already two weeks old, when Christine and Erik had their next secret meeting in the de Chagny garden. As much as both of them wished to see each other more regularly, they both knew that more frequent encounters would increase the danger of discovery. Mme. Giry continued to help arrange their meetings. Since she sometimes went back to her house to get a few things for herself or Meg, she always managed to send short messages to Nadir's home, informing Erik, which days the old Comte would not be home, since those seemed the safest times for a visit.

When Christine arrived in the rosarium, little Philippe on her arm, Erik had already been waiting for them. Little Philippe cooed, when he saw him. "Eee, awww, hoo," the child babbled, wriggling happily in his mother's arms. Christine smiled. "I think he wants you to hold him," she told Erik. The latter was only too happy to oblige. He took the little Vicomte from his mother's arms and held him. The baby seemed quite happy and Erik beamed. "Do you really think he already understands that much?" he asked Christine. She nodded."Oh yes, he already knows who he likes and who he doesn't like. You, he definitely likes. Mme. Giry and Meg as well. His grandmother, I am not so sure. She has tried holding him once, and he let her. I mean, he did not behave as happy as he does when you hold him, but he did not cry either. Whenever his grandfather tries to hold him, though, he usually starts screaming."

Christine felt a bit guilty. She knew that the baby probably picked up on her own likes and dislikes. Instinctively the little boy trusted the same people his mother trusted. While she felt pretty much indifferent towards her mother-in-law, the old Comte gave her the creeps. She could not forgive how he had treated her while she was giving birth, and his attitude towards her was always ice-cold and formal, if not downright condescending. On the other hand, she knew that he was the child's grandfather and thus deserved her son's love.

Little Philippe continued with his babbling and Erik chuckled when the little hand reached for his chin. Christine smiled at them. How relaxed her Angel was! She had rarely seen him like that. The shadow of a smile had just crossed his features and his eyes were downright sparkling. Now was definitely a good time to ask him for a favor.

"Angel," she began a bit uneasily. "Now that my baby has been born, I miss music more than ever. I so want to sing lullabies for my little Philippe, and later maybe nursery rhymes and such. I want to sing Christmas carols for him this winter, but…" her voice trailed. Erik looked up. "You are out of practice, and you do not want to hurt your voice?" he finished her sentence. Christine nodded. "Yes. I have not sung in such a long time, and I am afraid I may have forgotten a lot. After all, it has been about a year and a half since…" she once again stopped in mid-sentence. Since that fateful night of her betrayal, the night she had exposed his face to a whole audience, the night she had agreed to stay with him in order to save Raoul, the night she had left him. Despite all that had happened since, the memory of this particular night was still painful for Christine, and probably even more so for Erik. She glanced at him uncertainly. After all, the emotional stress she had put him through that night had caused his severe illness, had almost killed him.

For a brief moment Erik's thoughts returned to that night as well. He almost felt physical pain again when he remembered Christine leaving him with her fiancé. Then he resolutely shook off these memories. There was no point in dwelling on them now. So much had changed since then. He had Christine's friendship back and she allowed him to be a part of her and her child's life, she even let him hold her little son. With Christine and Philippe by his side, at times he could almost pretend he had a family. After she had shown him so much trust and genuine affection, he certainly could not deny her request to help her with her voice again.

Erik nodded. "Of course I will help you with your singing," he promised. He suddenly was aware how much he had missed hearing her sing. It would be wonderful to train her again, to hear her beautiful voice soar again, to help her reach her full potential. Christine beamed. "Thank you, Erik, can we start right now?" she asked eagerly. Erik smiled at her enthusiasm. "It may be a bit soon after this little guy's birth," he reminded her, pointing at the baby in his arms. "Your abdominal muscles may not have fully recovered from giving birth," he explained. "In your place I would wait another week or two before starting with scales and easy warm-up exercises again. But there is no reason why you should not hum to him right now." Christine knew that Erik had a point. She would have to wait a little bit longer with actual singing, but she would try to hum.

"You could also start practicing the piano a bit in the meantime," Erik advised. "You have not done that in quite a while either, or have you? And you will need to accompany yourself at least a bit, since I won't be able to do that for you right now, and somehow I do not think that the Comte would hire a pianist to help you with your singing." Christine had to laugh at this idea. "No, you are right, he would not do that," she giggled. "I bet he will not like my singing at all, but Philippe is a Daaé as well as a de Chagny, and we Daaés are musicians. My son needs to have music in his life."

With these words she took her son back into her own arms. She then asked Erik how they would be able to go about future singing lessons. He thought about it for a moment. "You know I am always in the garden at night," he said then. "If you decided to practice in the evening, once your son is fast asleep and does not need you, I would be able to listen from outside. I could take notes and think about how you could best correct tiny imperfections and once we see each other again, I give you the instructions. Then you can work on those and we'll see how it goes," he suggested. Christine liked that plan. The beautiful de Chagny piano was situated in the music room adjacent to the large ball room, far away from her son's nursery. If she practiced there in the evenings, she would not wake up the child.

"Thank you, Angel," she murmured, smiling at Erik. Then, holding her son safely in her right arm, she put her left arm around Erik's waist and pulled him close, leaning her head against his shoulder to show him her gratitude. After a moment of hesitation Erik put his arm around her and the boy.

Xxxx

In early September Théophile-Auguste asked his uncle for an appointment. He needed money. Desperately. One of his larger obligations was due and he was unable to raise the necessary sum. He knew he was in serious trouble when the only way left to him was to confide in the old Comte and ask him for his help. He knew that the Comte hated gambling and would probably harangue him, but he also hoped that the old man's sense of family honor would convince him that he had to pay his nephew's debts.

To his utter dismay, the Comte showed no inclination to help him. "You scoundrel," the old man scolded him. "Not enough that you hire murderers to get rid of people that are in your way, you also dishonor yourself and our noble family by gambling! Small wonder you were desperate enough to be recognized as the new Vicomte that you tried to get rid of my true heir before he was even born." His voice was dripping with contempt. "I do not care how you settle your obligations," he continued. "If you had some honor left in you, you would not survive your shame. You probably won't be strong enough for that solution. But I swear to you, if you dishonor the family name by not paying your debt and then have the audacity of staying in France, I will kill you myself."

Théophile-Auguste paled. He had counted on his uncle's help. He had thought that the old man would do anything to keep the de Chagny name an honorable one. He had not expected the Comte's hatred and contempt for him would be that strong. "I am sorry, uncle," he tried one last time. "I was young and careless. But I have learned my lesson. If you help me this one time, I promise I will never gamble again." The old man sneered at him. "Out" he yelled. "Don't sully this house any more with your filthy presence! If you have not left once I have counted to three I will have you thrown out!" Théophile-Auguste shuddered. "One," the Comte counted. "Two…" Théophile-Auguste turned on his heels and rushed out.

The old Comte shook his head. He suddenly felt the need to go to the nursery. It was good to know that he had a better heir than this poor excuse of a nephew.

When Théophile-Auguste's main creditor knocked on the young de Chagny's door the next day to collect his debt, the servant who answered the door informed him that his master had left France on an urgent business trip and was not expected to return to Paris before next spring at the earliest.

Xxxx

With Théophile-Auguste gone for the moment, there was no real reason to keep up the watches around the de Chagny mansion. Of course, Erik still went there regularly, because he and Christine had taken up their singing lessons again. As they had agreed, Christine used the early evening hours, once she had put little Philippe to bed, for practicing her music. The Comte severely disapproved of this activity, and the old Comtesse was downright shocked that one could as much as think of music in a house of mourning. They would have both thrown out the young mother on the spot, had not the doctor repeated to them how conducive the mother's breast-feeding was to the development of their little grandchild. For the baby's sake they put up with this "impossible" mother and her "highly improper" new way of passing her leisure time.

Christine sensed her in-law's hostility, but she also found that music helped her deal with all adversities. Since she had taken up playing the piano and singing again, she discovered that she could forget all her troubles and problems and lose herself completely in the soothing sounds of her music. Erik's advice was invaluable to her, and even though her voice had been rusty at first, with his help she soon regained her previous virtuosity.

Erik was extremely proud of his student. Christine had exceeded all his expectations. After such a long break he had expected a few tedious weeks of serious disappointment on both sides, but Christine's voice almost had not suffered at all from the long inactivity. Her interpretation, on the other hand, had improved beyond imagination. It was as if all the painful suffering of the past year had matured both, her voice and her soul. Under Erik's guidance, Christine reached new levels of expression that even he had not expected to be possible. The evening she first sang Elyssa's aria again, she made Erik cry. Never before had he heard "Think of Me" sung with such underlying love and resignation, yet with the knowledge that nothing and nobody, not even life-long separation could ever get in the way of Elyssa's love, expressed in every single note.

The young girl has grown into a loving woman, he thought by himself. Now that she has lost her beloved husband, she can identify with Elyssa's fate, with the woman who is about to lose her lover. She had not known love yet when she debuted with that role…

Xxxx

Christine was singing "Think of Me". She had hesitated a bit before trying this particular song again. Too many memories were connected with this particular aria. Sure, she had met Raoul again that night, but it had also been her first night in the limelight, her first personal triumph – a triumph she owed to her Angel. She smiled. Instinctively she had known that this "angel" was not a heavenly being, but a mortal like herself. At least she had hoped he was a normal human being. Oh, how she had wanted to meet him in person! She remembered how she had implored him to show himself to her, to hide no longer. A warm, cozy feeling filled her thoughts. Her Angel, her Erik. He had always been there for her. He had always helped her. First, when her father died, then as her teacher, most recently as her protector. The night of Hannibal had not only been the night of their shared triumph - for what had enabled her to succeed as prima donna had really been the joined effort of his spirit and her voice - that night had also been when she had first met Erik in person.

Unusual though their relationship had been until that point, Christine had known that she could trust him. She had followed the strange, masked man down into the cellars of the opera house, leaving behind all concerns of propriety. She had gone with him then, just like she had trusted him recently with her life and that of her child when she had allowed him to escort her to Paris. So much had happened since she sang the part of Elyssa that long-ago night, but the only thing that mattered to her while she performed that beautiful song about a doomed love again for the first time in almost two years, was that she had her Angel back and that he was teaching her again.

Xxxx

Taking up singing lessons with Christine again had finally brought music back to Erik's life. During his illness and long convalescence, he had downright avoided music, for it brought back painful memories of Christine and his lost love. Later on, he had been way too worried about her fate to even think about music, and of course the endless nights of standing watch would not really have left him time for music, even if he had wanted to take it up again. He had not composed one single note since "Don Juan Triumphant". But now that he heard Christine's heavenly voice regularly again, now that her matured, soulful interpretation of the well-known arias pulled at his heartstrings, he had his inspiration back. Hundreds of beautiful melodies, some tender, some caressing, some passionate, but some also sad, melancholic, resigned, haunted his thoughts. He felt the need to compose again, to bring these melodies out in the open and share them with others.

When Erik took out his violin again, for the first time since he had collapsed moments after having sought refuge in Nadir's home so long ago, the daroga could not believe his ears. Erik had always mastered the instrument with virtuosity, but his compositions had always been haunted, troubled. Now the melodies he coaxed from his violin exuded an emotional depth and a sweetness that Nadir had never heard before. He realized that the experiences of the past two years had had an influence on his friend. Christine's friendship – no, the daroga thought by himself, Christine's love, for he was sure that the young woman truly did love Erik, even though neither she herself nor Erik seemed to realize that fact – Christine's love and acceptance had changed something in his friend, had filled him with hope and had awoken feelings of tenderness and devotion in the disfigured man that not even he himself had probably known existed.

Nadir was deeply moved by Erik's play and at first he could not find words. After a few moments he smiled at his friend, tears in his eyes. "Erik, that was beautiful," he said. "You should write this down and publish it. I am sure this piece would move people everywhere if it were performed in a concert hall." Erik shut his eyes. This was a dream… he had always dreamed of writing music, of expressing his deepest feelings, of sharing those feelings and emotions with the rest of the world. If he were a normal man, that's what he would do. But which publisher would even glance once at the work of a man who came to a business meeting wearing a mask?

"And how do you suggest, I do this?" he sneered at Nadir. "Imagine me walking into a publisher's office wearing my mask! No, Monsieur, I am aware this is not a masquerade, no, I will not take my mask off. What? You won't look at my work then?" he grimaced. "I would not stand a chance, and you know it," he whispered, resigned.

Nadir put his hand on Erik's arm. "Don't give up just yet," he advised. "Write it down first. This piece and maybe a few others. Songs, too. Maybe a lullaby for little Philippe, a new song for your Christine,.. whatever comes to mind. Once you think you are ready to submit the compositions to a publisher, let me try my luck. If you give me authorization to act on your behalf I can say the composer is a rather reclusive friend or relative of mine, and if the publisher then insists on meeting you, we can make an appointment in the evening and you can wear your hat that shadows your face. Trust me, we can make it work." Erik looked at him, his eyes full of hope that he could achieve his dream that way, but also full of doubt the plan could work. Nadir smiled. He had one more ace up his sleeve to convince Erik. "Think about it," he said. "Think about what Christine will say if you can give her the first volume of your published compositions as a Christmas surprise!"


	18. Autumn Weather

Wow, new update! Thank you for your great reviews! No, Théophile-Auguste is not gone for good, he will be back. And yes, Erik needs to make some money. After all, we want him to eventually be able to support a family, right? Yes, he has extorted large sums from the managers, but he has also lead an expensive lifestyle (how much do you think that organ alone has cost him?), and he has not had any income since at least Don Juan Triumphant. He probably pays Nadir a little something too, to contribute to their household, so... the man needs a job, hence his return to composing. It also kind of fits with "Love Never Dies" that he would get his inspiration back once he hears her sing again.

As to Raoul,... well... if he lived, Théophile-Auguste would never have dared go ahead with his little scheme, for he would have had to kill Raoul as well, not just that "impossible" woman. So, with Raoul alive there would not have been a story. Also, Christine can't well marry them both at the same time, right?

Anyway, I still do not own anything or anybody. On to the next installment of this story, which will pick up a few threads from previous chapters...

Chapter 17 – Autumn Weather

September had been warm and sunny, but October brought cold winds and heavy rain. As much as Christine loved the beautiful autumn colors of the leaves in the large de Chagny garden, the bad weather soon forced her to greatly reduce the time she spent outside. The Comte downright refused to let her take his grandson out unless the sun was shining and the child was wrapped up in several layers of clothing. Such days were rare, though. Therefore one day in early October, when Erik met Christine in the garden to give her some advice on her singing, to his great sorrow, she came alone, without the little Vicomte, who had already managed to steal Erik's heart.

Christine noticed her Angel's disappointment at once. "I know," she sighed. "It is not that cold yet, and I could have wrapped Philippe in an additional blanket, but the Comte has given order that I may only take him outside if there is sunshine, and the servants stick to his orders. I could not bring him with me." Erik understood. As much as he would have wanted to meet his little friend, he did not want to cause Christine problems with her in-laws. "Do not preoccupy yourself," he comforted her. "The Comte probably is just trying to do what is best for his grandson. Fresh air may be good for children, but your Philippe is not even two months old yet, and it is rather chilly out here." He tried to sound convincing. Christine took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his. "I know you miss him," she said softly. "And he misses you, too."

Erik was not quite sure how she could know that the infant missed him, but he certainly wished she were right. That little fellow had won his heart with his happy little face, his cute baby sounds and his huge, chocolate-brown eyes that reminded Erik so much of the child's mother. The thought that he might not be able to see the little guy much in the cold winter months, definitely made him sad.

"I will tell Philippe you love him," Christine said, squeezing Erik's hand. She was incredibly happy that Erik and her son seemed to like each other so much. She knew that Erik was trying to hide his disappointment that he could not hold her son today, so she tried to change the topic to distract him. "By the way, Angel," she said, "did you hear me practice last night? What do you think of my technique?" Erik's mind immediately concentrated on his role as her voice coach and he began telling her what she had done at perfection and what other aspects of her singing might need some additional practice, explaining to her how she might be able to sing certain passages with even greater ease.

Xxxx

After that day, Erik saw little Philippe only once more, before the weather got too bad for the little Vicomte to leave the house at all. The child shrieked with pleasure when he recognized his mother's friend and babbled happily in Erik's arms once the latter held him. Erik had to admit that Christine had obviously been right. The infant had missed him as well.

"See?" Christine smiled. "I told you, he missed you. He knows you and likes you. Even if I can't bring him out that much now, he won't forget you. You don't have to fear you will lose his love." Erik once again wondered how well she understood him. That the child might forget him if he did not see him regularly had indeed been his greatest fear. "He is a Daaé as well," Christine continued. "And we Daaés are loyal to our friends."

That day had been one of the last happy days for Christine and Erik. If anything, the weather got worse and there was barely any sun for weeks. One day, when Christine was a bit delayed for her appointment with Erik to discuss her musical progress with him, she noticed that Erik seemed to be cold. She felt bad. He had waited for her in the chilly weather, and the slight drizzle had soaked his cloak. "Erik," she sighed. "You should not have waited for me in this weather. You could catch a serious cold that way!" She grasped for his hand and noticed how cold his fingers were despite the gloves he had been wearing. "You are freezing!" she exclaimed, worried. "Go home immediately and try to get warm again. I don't want you to get ill. I don't want you to catch pneumonia again." She gasped. She had talked without thinking. If she could take her words back, she would have done so. Erik did not know that Nadir had told her everything about his long illness. How would he react?

Erik paled. How could she possibly know that he had suffered from pneumonia last winter? "How.. why..?" he stammered. Christine looked down, she felt like she could not face Erik right now. "Nadir," she whispered. "He told me." She sensed Erik stiffening beside her. Now that she was thinking about it, she understood that it might be embarrassing for her Angel that she knew about his illness, about the fact that he had wanted to die when he had lost her. "He meant well," she continued, hesitantly. "He did not mean to betray your trust in him." She glanced up at Erik. His clenched teeth were a clear indication of his barely contained anger. "It was the first morning after you rescued me," she continued to explain. "He did not know me then, and he feared I might do something to hurt you again." Erik was still fighting for control, when he sensed Christine's little hand on his shoulder. "Nadir loves you very much, Erik. He was worried about you. He wanted to make sure I understood the depth of your feelings for me." Erik finally met her eyes. It was as if she could see to the bottom of his soul. All his love for her, but also his shame for having been so weak and for almost having allowed the fact that he had lost her to destroy him lay bare before her eyes. Christine was overwhelmed. She knew how badly she had hurt him, and yet he still cared for her so deeply. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I am glad, he told me, Erik," she continued. "Don't be mad at him. Knowing the whole truth helped me to understand you better and to appreciate your friendship even more." Erik did not say a word, but when he finally put his arms around her and pulled her close, Christine knew he had mastered his anger and forgiven Nadir his indiscretion.

Christine wrapped her arms around Erik's waist. "You should go home now, Angel," she whispered. "You are not getting any warmer here, and I am seriously worried about your health. Promise me that you will take good care of yourself." Erik felt in heaven. Yes, it was cold, he was freezing and miserable in his damp clothes, but Christine was worried about him! She cared about his health! With the possible exception of Nadir, nobody had ever before cared whether he lived or died. "I will," he promised, one of his rare, happy smiles lighting up the visible part of his face. "But you should not worry, I am strong and healthy now, a little bit of a cold drizzle is not going to kill me."

Christine smiled as well. "Still, I will be worrying if you don't go home and get into dry clothes immediately. And don't even think about going out for a few days. Send us a note through Nadir to let us know that you are all right. It is obvious that we will have to find other ways of meeting for the next few months. The garden is too inhospitable a place in this kind of weather." Erik nodded. She was right. He now realized that Christine, too, was shivering. "You'd better go back into the house as well," he admonished her. "I would not want you to get ill either, and think of your son. You are all he has left. You need to stay strong and healthy for him."

Christine looked at him. He was right. But even though she had just now told him to go home at once, she realized that they would not be able to meet as regularly anymore. Christine rarely left the de Chagny mansion, therefore it would be difficult to arrange a meeting elsewhere, and the garden was off-limits for the time being. She knew she would not see her Angel anytime soon. For some reason that thought made her incredibly sad. "I will miss you," she whispered. Then, she tore herself away from Erik and ran towards the house. She was about to burst into tears and she did not want him to see her cry…

Xxxx

Erik was in a bad mood when he came home that day. Nadir realized something was wrong when Erik started abusing his poor violin, forcing angry and wild melodies from the instrument. Nadir was worried. What had happened? Something had obviously shaken Erik deeply. Was it possible that he and Christine had had a fight? He let his friend rage for a while, hoping that Erik would calm down, but when the violent melodies started to get on his nerves, he finally tried to stop his friend.

"Erik, what on earth do you think you are doing?" he asked. "By Allah, you are going to break that little violin in pieces if you continue to play like that!" Erik stopped only for a moment. "Don't interrupt me, daroga," he said feverishly. "I am in no mood for conversation." Nadir looked at him worriedly. "Are you ill, Erik? You sound like you are running a high fever." The obvious concern in his friend's voice calmed Erik a bit. "I am perfectly fine," he quipped. "Except for the fact that I haven't seen little Philippe in two weeks and I won't be able to see Christine any time soon thanks to that God-forsaken weather!"

Nadir smiled. He understood that not being able to see Christine and her infant son might cause Erik discomfort. After all, Nadir was convinced that they were Erik's family – or would become his family one day. Just like Christine, Nadir had been a little nervous about Erik's reaction to the baby, who was, after all, his rival's son. But once Erik had seen the boy and especially after he had held him for the first time, he had not seemed to be able to stop talking about the little miracle that his Christine had produced. Nadir had not really seen the child yet, but he knew every detail about Philippe. Erik never tired of describing the baby's looks, the cute sounds the little boy produced, the way how he seemed to enjoy being held by Erik.

Erik's current violent temper obviously was caused by the fact that he missed his love and her son. While Nadir could understand Erik's frustration, he also felt like he would not be able to suffer the pitiful screeching sounds much longer that Erik forced from his violin. "I know," he said calmly. "I have been wondering how much longer the weather will allow you to meet her in the garden. But I am convinced she misses you just as much as you miss her." Erik sighed. Nadir was right. As much as Christine had hurried to get away from him to hide her tears, he had noticed them anyway. Knowing that she was just as miserable as he was, didn't help, though. At least not much. It _was_ good to know that she missed him.

Nadir sensed that Erik was relaxing a bit and he thanked Allah. "She does … care for you," he continued. He had almost used the word "love", but had corrected himself in time. Erik would not believe it anyway, at least not in his current agitated condition. "So why do you not use this time of forced separation to prepare a surprise for her? Do you remember what we talked about a few weeks ago, about you trying to publish a few compositions? Now you have time to write down your beautiful melodies, and if we time it right, the first volume can still be out in time for Christmas."

Erik nodded. The thought that he could use this time to prepare a special gift for Christine appealed to him. He remembered the way she had looked at him the last time he had held little Philippe and the way how the little guy had babbled at him, and suddenly a pure melody, full of longing and love, of tenderness and peace entered his mind. He grasped his staff paper and a pen and started scribbling.

Xxxx

Marie Perrault was making her way to the waiting train at the Gare du Nord. She had once again spent a week in Paris to help her dear Francine, the orphaned daughter of her cousin, who had married a widower with two young sons about a year ago and now was expecting a baby of her own. Marie had been aware that Jacques had married Francine because he needed a mother for his children, not out of love, but she had hoped that Francine's love and Jacques's loyalty to his wife would be enough to make this marriage a happy one. And she had been right. In fact, Jacques had just confided to her that while he would never forget his first wife, the second one, with her loving understanding and care for his two boys, was about to steal his heart.

Marie was content. She liked Francine and her family, but she was always happy when she could return home, to her quiet little town of Boscherville. She had almost reached the train, when she heard someone shout her name. "Mademoiselle Marie! It's so good to see you again!" Marie turned around and recognized an elderly lady she had shared a compartment with on one of her previous trips to Paris. She had enjoyed the talkative little woman's company, but to her utter embarrassment could not remember her name.

"Oh, it is you!" she exclaimed. "How good to see you. Have you been visiting your relatives as well?" The other lady nodded. "Yes, it was a pleasure seeing them all again, but now I am headed home. Are you taking that train as well? Then maybe we could share a compartment again?" Marie agreed. She definitely preferred the company of somebody she had met before to a compartment full of strangers.

The two ladies boarded the train and found an empty compartment. They made themselves comfortable. Marie was looking out of the window, at the trees that were by now almost leafless, and half-heartedly listening to her acquaintance's ramblings about her family, the weather, and God knows what else, when something the other woman said suddenly caught her attention. "You know, I met this sweet couple last summer, on my way to Paris," her companion had said. "They were from your place. From Boscher… " She interrupted herself, not quite certain anymore of the town's name. "You met somebody from Boscherville?" Marie asked. "Who was it?" She was not aware that any inhabitants of her home town – other than herself - had been to Paris recently.

The other woman shook her head. She should have asked that young couple for their name. "They were a young couple," she explained. "The woman was very young, almost a child. But she was heavily pregnant. The husband was older, mid-thirties, I would guess, but very much in love with her." She smiled happily at the memory of these two. "He worshipped the ground she walked on," she prattled on, "and she adored him." Marie was racking her brain, but she could not imagine who the other lady might be talking about. There were two or three pregnant women in her town, some of them had husbands in their mid-thirties, but none of the ladies would fit the description of "almost a child".

"They knew you," the other lady continued, oblivious to the fact that Marie obviously had no idea who she was talking about. "The young man said you were a good friend of his late mother, and that he had fond childhood memories involving you!" Marie suddenly felt like she was falling into an abyss. There had only been one woman in all of Boscherville that would have considered her a good friend, and only one boy, who might connect her name with some of the happier moments of his disastrous childhood. But that boy had disappeared long ago, had probably died. Although, if he were still alive… she did the math in her head… yes, he would be thirty-six, going on thirty-seven right now. Was it possible? Could this man have been Erik? Could the boy have survived against all odds and grown into a man, and even more importantly, could he have found love despite his handicap?

"Madeleine's son?" she whispered. "Did he really say he was Madeleine's son?" The other woman looked at her surprised. "He did not mention his mother's name," she stated. "Just that she and you had been friends. But if your late friend Madeleine had a son who fits the description, then I guess it was him." She thought about it for a moment. "I am not sure," she continued. "The woman's name was Lise, I am fairly certain, but his name… it was something not very common, .. maybe Erik?" Marie paled. The name was right, but had it really been him? Surely, if the man her travel companion was talking about had been heavily disfigured, she would have noticed?

"What did he look like?" she asked anxiously. "Tall, rather on the skinny side," the other lady described. "Quite handsome." Marie shook her head. Nobody in their right mind would describe Erik as handsome. Though, she remembered fondly, the left side of the poor boy's face had been rather cute. Was it possible that that other woman had only seen half of his face? For if it had not been Erik, who else could it have been? Who else would know about her friendship with Erik's mother and be the right age?

"What about his right cheek?" she asked again. "Did you notice anything unusual about his right cheek?" The other lady looked at her in surprise. "What? You mean, did he have a scar or something?" Marie nodded. "Did he?" The other lady seemed confused. She tried to remember the young couple once again. The husband had been sitting in the corner, holding his pregnant wife, who had been lying across the seats on their side of the compartment. She suddenly realized that she had only seen half his face. "I don't know," she finally said hesitantly. "I think I never saw the right side of his face."


	19. Business

Chapter 18 – Business

November was just as cold and humid as October had been. Without her regular walks in the garden and her meetings with her Angel, Christine grew increasingly restless. She missed Erik, especially since her life in the huge mansion was anything but ideal. The de Chagny family continued to keep their distance, the servants had already noticed and overheard enough to know that this "comedian" would not be staying much longer and barely hid their contempt. If it had not been for Mme. Giry and Meg who were still with her, serving as her personal maid and shoulder to cry on as well as Philippe's nanny, life would have been unbearable, especially since the Comte had made various attempts to gain more influence on his grandson's upbringing. He had soon given up such efforts though, since the little Vicomte had proven to be a real Daaé personality-wise. The boy had inherited his maternal grandfather's stubbornness. He simply would start screaming if anybody other than his mother or either of the two Giry-ladies tried to hold him, bath him, change his diapers. He was the friendliest baby in the world as long as these three women cared for him. The moment somebody other than them approached him he grew nervous and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Christine smiled inwardly when she imagined her in-laws' faces if they could see her little son with Erik. Deep down she felt a bit guilty that her son's antipathy regarding his paternal grandparents made her so happy. After all, they were the child's blood-relatives. But when she thought about how coldly they were treating her and the kind of things they thought of her, she felt like they did not deserve her boy's love. Erik, on the other hand, who had rescued her from the attack that could have cost her and Philippe their lives, oh yes, he certainly deserved the infant's affection. Erik… she had not seen him in several weeks. She knew that he had not caught a cold that day, Nadir had sent a message to Mme. Giry, pretending to be a neighbor who had had a look at her home and informed her that "everything was fine at the house". But what was he doing? Was he as restless as she was, feeling caged by the bad weather which made it impossible for them to venture outside and meet?

Mme. Giry entered the dark room. "Christine, why are you not turning on the lights?" she whispered, careful not to wake the little Vicomte, who had just fallen asleep in his crib. Christine turned away from her surrogate mother. She did not want her to see that she had been crying. Mme. Giry noticed it anyway. She had had enough opportunity to observe Christine and Erik together and knew more about Christine's feelings for her "Angel" than either of the two. She had once or twice considered giving Erik a hint that the situation was nowhere near as hopeless as he seemed to think, but had thought better of it. Considering Christine's position as the mother of the current Vicomte de Chagny, it was impossible for the young couple to get married anytime soon. They would have to wait until at least a full year had passed after Raoul's death. Therefore there was no need to rush things, and she was still convinced that it would be sweeter for her two protégés if they found the way to each other without outside help.

Christine's uneven mood these days was a clear indication to the former ballet mistress that Erik's current absence was painful for the young widow. "Why don't you go and practice a bit?" she smiled at Christine, trying to distract her from her brooding. "I have not heard you sing in days!" Christine sighed. "It's not the same," she murmured. Mme. Giry understood only too well what the young woman meant. "Well, maybe not," she comforted Christine. "But, do you really think he would like your voice to get rusty again after all the trouble he took this summer to help you polish it?" Christine smiled. She had not thought about it that way. She owed it to her Angel to keep her voice in shape. Music had always been a strong tie between them, music would have to help her deal with his absence. "You are right," she whispered, and, careful not to wake the sleeping child, she tiptoed out of the room. When Mme. Giry approached the music room a few minutes later, she heard the melancholic verses of Elyssa's big aria. She smiled. She had had an inkling that "Think of Me" would be just the right song for Christine's current mood.

Xxxx

After his violent attack of frustration the first night after he and Christine had realized that the garden could not serve as a meeting place any longer, Erik had calmed down considerably. Nadir's idea of putting together an album of compositions that he could give to Christine as a Christmas gift had appealed to him. Once he got started, he found that he could barely stop. All the emotions he had experienced over the past couple of months, his worry for her, his joy at her friendship and acceptance, the tenderness and protectiveness he felt when she was searching comfort in his arms, the ecstasy caused by the baby's happy cooing sounds, his pride in her wonderful voice, all these emotions had been bottled up within him and were now trying to find a release. With music Erik could express all his various feelings, and music also helped him to process all those impressions. After so many years, Erik was finally learning what it meant to experience happiness.

Nadir never interrupted Erik when the latter was working on a new composition. He had realized early on, that Erik needed music to get a grip on his complicated relationship with Christine. He sensed that expressing himself through his music had a cathartic effect on his young friend, and that thanks to Christine's influence Erik was slowly letting go of the bitterness that had engulfed him for so long.

Xxxx

Toward the end of November Erik had put together a large selections of new songs. Nadir, who had listened to every single one of them, thought they were the most beautiful, touching melodies he had ever heard, expressing a man's love for his woman and child like no other songs he had ever encountered in his long life. Yes, Nadir had noticed that Erik's feelings for the little Vicomte definitely resembled fatherly pride and he had a feeling that Erik's deepest dream of having a wife and a child like any normal man would come true sooner rather than later. "If she didn't love him already," Nadir thought, "though I know she does, these songs would win him her heart. I want to see the woman who can resist a love as strong as the one Erik has expressed in these compositions."

Nadir looked at the neat stack of staff paper, neatly filled with Erik's compositions. "So, have you thought about it?" he asked his friend. "Are you going to submit these to MM. Dubois & Suligny for publication?" Erik hesitated. This was a big step Nadir was asking of him, and he was not quite sure he was ready for it. "Okay, write that letter of authorization that gives me power to act on your behalf," Nadir continued to gently prod him. "I will then take that whole stack to their office and I will be … well, Allah may forgive me, but I will be damned, if they won't accept these compositions, publish them as a beautiful leather-bound volume and promote this new album for the upcoming Christmas sales!"

Erik still fought with himself for a few minutes, but he ended up drafting the letter Nadir had requested.

Xxxx

The next day, Monsieur George Dubois, senior partner of the music publishing company Dubois & Suligny, was informed by his office clerk, that a Monsieur Khan, representative of a new, as yet unpublished composer, was asking for an appointment to submit his client's work for publication. M. Dubois sighed. He was not particularly looking forward to this meeting. Nowadays everybody and their sister seemed convinced they were gifted musicians, and he had recently had to wade through tons of compositions that had been mediocre at best. There had certainly been nothing among those that would have been profitable for his company.

"Show him in, François," he decided, resignedly. "Let's get over with this as quickly as possible." The clerk obeyed, and only minutes later, Nadir entered the publisher's office. M. Dubois offered him a seat and then began his routine inquiry. "So you are hoping that we will be able to publish some music, Monsieur…" he glanced at the note his clerk had handed him. "Khan."

"Yes," Nadir replied. He had expected the publisher to be less than enthusiastic, and he was prepared to take the bored man by surprise. "Now, I know you probably get lots of, shall we say … unsuitable submissions, and since you do not know either me or my client, you have all the reason in the world to expect his compositions to be just that – unusable garbage." M. Dubois looked up surprised. Nobody had ever started a conversation that way. Everybody was always praising their work. He chuckled. "So you think I have already formed an opinion?" he asked. "Do you think that is the way of making good business?" Nadir smiled his enigmatic smile. "In my opinion it is always wise to inspect something closely before accepting or rejecting it," he said. "Which is why I have brought my client's compositions with me. I am sure with your experience, it will take you only a minute or two to judge if this music is worth your time."

M. Dubois sighed. He had planned to ask the man to leave the compositions here for further study and to send him off right away. But after this opening, it would almost be like admitting his experience was not quite as flawless as the customer had assumed, if he asked for more time than just a few minutes to judge the music in question. Oh well, he thought, it's probably garbage anyway, and I will know that after just one glance at the first page…

"All right," he gave in. "Let me have a look at these songs. That way we will both know immediately where we stand." Nadir produced Erik's compositions and handed the topmost song to M. Dubois. The publisher glanced at the staff sheet, trying to replay the main melody in his head, and paused. After looking at the first few bars he saw that the composer must be an accomplished musician. The accompaniment to the song was unusual, and from what he could see, seemed to contain some beautiful modulations. "What,.." he did not finish, went over to the piano in the corner and started playing the first few lines. This was different. He had not seen such a beautiful composition in quite a while. The lyrics talked about friendship and loyalty, while the haunting melody of the singing voice and especially the mysterious chords of the piano part revealed something quite different – a longing and a tenderness that could only be inspired by love. M. Dubois smiled. This song was exactly what he had been looking for. The noble ladies who performed in their salons would love the romantic quality of the composition, and the piano part was just the right level of difficulty for this particular clientele.

M. Dubois looked at the next song. A lullaby. He chuckled. This was another winner. Somehow this song perfectly captured the baby's babbling as it quieted down for sleep. The next one was an exotic "Persian song", and there were more songs about friendship, about acceptance, about finding comfort, more songs about a parent's feelings about a new-born child, songs of separation and longing. Each and every one of these compositions was pure genius.

Half an hour later he looked up at Nadir. "Your client wrote all these songs?" he asked. Nadir nodded. "And none of them have been published previously elsewhere?" M. Dubois continued. "None," Nadir confirmed. "They were all written within the past month." The publisher's eyes widened. A composer who could produce so much quality work in such a short time, would be an invaluable asset for his company.

He glanced at Nadir. Was this M. Khan aware of the true value of these songs or could he get them cheap? "Well, you have probably guessed that I am somewhat interested in these compositions," he began slowly. "You fox," Nadir thought. "You are dying to get the rights for these songs. A good thing Erik sent me, negotiating prices is an art perfected in the Orient. I will probably get a better deal than he would have got." He continued to smile his enigmatic smile and waited for M. Dubois' offer.

"Of course your client is an unknown in the musical world…" Nadir almost laughed out loud. After all, Erik's last work had been performed at the Opera Populaire, but of course it was better not to mention "Don Juan Triumphant" here. "As I was saying," M. Dubois continued, "this M. …" he looked at the song in front of him. What was the composer's name? Ah, there it was: "Lyrics and music by Erik Chabrier". "This M. Chabrier is a newcomer, so to speak, which means that despite the obvious quality of the composition, there is some risk involved for us…" Nadir just continued to look at him expectantly. M. Dubois was beginning to sweat. This dumb Oriental actually seemed to wait for his offer instead of asking for a low beginner's salary that somebody like this M. Chabrier could expect.

"Well,…" it dawned on him that he had obviously underestimated this M. Khan. M. Chabrier was a genius. It therefore made sense that he would have teamed up with the best negotiator available to sell his compositions. "I think I can offer your client 3,000 Francs right away and 5% off each copy sold," he finally uttered. Nadir laughed. "I knew this was pointless," he said quietly. "I had advised M. Chabrier not to bother with your company and to contact Ricordi in Milan right away…" M. Dubois paled. Ricordi was one of his most successful rivals in the music publishing business. "5,000," he stammered. "5,000 Francs, and 8 % off each copy sold." Nadir smiled. "7,000 Francs," he stated calmly. "And 10 % off each copy sold, and we both know that you will still be making a lot of profit that way, especially if M. Chabrier should agree to write a second volume for you to publish."

Dubois winced. This was considerably more than he had expected to pay for these compositions, but deep in his heart he knew that he was still getting them comparatively cheap. "Agreed," he finally spat out. "7,000 Francs right away and 10 % off each copy sold. I will draft the contract. When will M. Chabrier be available to sign it?" Nadir sighed. He had feared that Erik would have to sign in person. It would require some persuading to make Erik agree to this. How would he convince his reluctant friend to meet M. Dubois?

"If M. Chabrier signed the contract this week," he asked cautiously, "would it be possible to have this album published in time for the Christmas sales?" M. Dubois was only too eager to get all the legalese out of the way so that he could start setting the songs for print right away. "Of course, of course," he said. "How about tomorrow? Would 10:00 a.m. be convenient for M. Chabrier?"

Nadir shook his head. "No, the afternoon would be better. How about 4:00 p.m.?" he suggested. At 4.00 p.m. it would be getting dark and Erik could be convinced more easily to leave the house. "I have to warn you, though," he continued, "that M. Chabrier is a very private person. He has been leading a rather reclusive lifestyle in recent years, for personal reasons,…" M. Dubois interrupted him. "No need for telling me more, Monsieur," he said. "I have met a lot of artists in my life, in my experience most of them have their little quirks. For all I care your M. Chabrier might be wearing a harlequin's domino and mask!" Nadir chuckled. "Be careful what you wish for!"

Xxxx

Erik had been nervously pacing in Nadir's living room. The longer his friend stayed away, the more discouraged he became. This had been a stupid idea. Quite obviously Nadir had failed and was right now thinking about what he could tell Erik about this failed project. How could he, Erik, have believed that he could actually have a profession like a normal man?

He was about to sink deep into his self-pity when the door opened and Nadir entered, a big smile on his face. "Triumph!" he shouted. "Erik, we did it! I sold your compositions to Dubois & Suligny. They are paying you 7,000 Francs right away and you get a 10%-share off every copy sold. And yes, the volume will be out in time for the Christmas sales!"

Erik stared at him in utter disbelief. "Seven… thousand?" he asked incredulously. Nadir nodded. "When he offered me 3,000 I knew your music was worth considerably more, so I mentioned Ricordi in Milan and he raised his offer to 5,000. That's when I asked for 7,000, and he grudgingly agreed."

Erik was at a loss for words. These conditions exceeded his wildest expectations. Nadir chuckled. It did not happen too often that his young friend was utterly speechless. "And you know," he continued, "M. Dubois is hoping for a second volume, though, if sales are anywhere near as good as I think they will be, we will re-negotiate for that one."

Erik's head spun. He had gone from desperation to huge success within a few moments. This was almost too good to be true. Surely there was a drawback?

Nadir was still chuckling. "And the funniest thing was what M. Dubois said about our appointment tomorrow, when you will have to sign the contract." Erik startled. He had known it. There was a problem. "Nadir, you cannot possibly expect me to go there and sign the contract in person!" he exclaimed in shock. "Don't worry," Nadir tried to calm him. "I had just started explaining to him that you are a private person when he said that most musicians he knows do have their quirks and he would not care if you showed up wearing a harlequin's domino and mask!" Erik stared at him, unable to say a word. "Though, at second thought," Nadir went on, still laughing, "I think we can do without the domino!"


	20. Christmas

Chapter 19 – Christmas

Despite Erik's nervousness the meeting with M. Dubois went fairly well. Erik was wearing his wide-brimmed hat and had managed to face away from the employees of the publishing company so that he and Nadir had reached M. Dubois' office unhindered. The publisher of course gasped when Nadir introduced Erik, but Nadir's amused comment "Erik, I told you you should have worn the domino as well!" immediately diffused the tension, and when Erik admired the beautiful old piano in M. Dubois's office, the latter was finally convinced that as eccentric as the young man seemed to be, he certainly was a real connoisseur when it came to instruments. "Would you like to play?" M. Dubois offered. Erik's eyes shone. His fingers had ached to touch the ivory keys. He eagerly sat down in front of the piano and started to play. M. Dubois sat in awe, watching as Erik's long, slender musician's hands raced across the keys with ease, coaxing haunting melodies of deep longing out of the instrument. When Erik finally stopped, M. Dubois had to fight for words.

"M. Chabrier," he finally stammered, "you are without doubt the most talented musician I have encountered in my whole professional life. I am honored that you chose our house to publish your compositions." Erik nodded, relieved. This was going so much better than he had feared. Then M. Dubois showed them the contract he had prepared for signing, and humbly asked when M. Chabrier was planning to submit his next volume. "And it does not have to be exclusively songs, Monsieur," he said. "I see that you excel at the piano as well, a few sonatas for instance would be highly appreciated. M. Fouché, that pianist, who is currently in favor with the Parisian society, asked me only recently, if I had any new piano music for him to study. Though, I have to admit," M. Dubois added, "compared to you, he is a mere dilettante."

Erik agreed he would write a few pieces for piano as well, and maybe also for violin, and the meeting concluded on a friendly note. Erik was happy that M. Dubois had not rejected his work because of his mask and the publisher congratulated himself on having contracted such a promising talent that would prove highly profitable for his company in the long run.

Xxxx

The more weeks passed without a meeting between Christine and Erik, the more nervous the young mother got. She missed her Angel terribly. Now Christmas was approaching, and she feared the holidays would pass without her seeing Erik. She had prepared a gift for her Angel and she was dying to give it to him and to see his reaction. At first she had not known what to give him, but when Mme. Giry had mentioned one day, that courtesy demanded she give something to the old Comte on behalf of his little grandson, who would probably be showered with gifts by his grandparents, and had suggested Christine take the infant to the recently opened photographer's shop and have his picture taken for the Comte, Christine had smiled. She loved the idea, but she would have more than one picture taken at that shop.

Mme. Giry had approved of her idea, and one day, the three ladies had packed the little Vicomte despite his grandfather's protests and had taken him to the photographer. The elderly man had been delighted with the cute baby and had produced a wonderful picture of the boy lying on a colorful rug – and an incredibly sweet picture of the young mother, holding her son, both of them smiling into the camera. Christine had paid for both pictures with her own money, the savings she had made during her time as the prima donna of the Opera Populaire. She was particularly happy with the second photograph, the one she was planning to give to Erik for Christmas. "Look at our picture, Philippe," she cooed happily to her son. "This is our gift for our dear Erik, so that he can always have us near, even if we cannot meet him in this poor weather!" The baby smiled at her as if he understood and shrieked in excitement. "Yes, I know, you miss him, too," Christine continued and sighed. How would she manage to get the picture to Erik? Would he even get it before Christmas?

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was racking her brain. Christine had been rather depressed lately and obviously missed Erik desperately. The infrequent messages Antoinette Giry had received through Nadir told her that Erik was in a similar state of mind. According to Nadir, Erik had prepared a fantastic Christmas surprise for Christine and was now looking for a way to get his present to her. Mme. Giry sighed. She pitied her two protégés. She remembered her own youth, when she had been engaged to her late husband, and she tried to imagine how she might have felt if they had been separated for weeks and could not even meet for a few moments at Christmas. She sympathized with the young couple's dilemma. Of course it would be possible for her to somehow smuggle Christine's picture out of the house and into Nadir's hands, and she was sure that Nadir and Erik could think of similar ways to have Erik's gift for Christine – whatever it might be – reach its destination, but she had a feeling that the two were hoping for a meeting, that would allow them to exchange their gifts in person.

She suddenly got to her feet. A glance at the wall clock had told her that she could still reach the nearest post office before it closed down for the night if she hurried. "I just remembered, I have to give our neighbor some instructions about the house," she told Meg. "I will drop a note for him off at the post office. You stay with Christine and Philippe." And off she went, leaving a widely grinning Meg behind. The young ballerina had understood perfectly. Her mother was trying to contact Nadir, and the only reason Meg could imagine for the hurry, was the fact that Christmas was only three days away. If her mother had finally had an idea how to get Erik and Christine together so that they could exchange their gifts, then there was no time to lose.

Xxxx

The next morning, Nadir was watching Erik as he listlessly stirred his tea. He knew what troubled his young friend. The recently published volume of his songs lay nicely wrapped on the small side table and Erik was desperately hoping for a chance to hand it to Christine. Nadir cursed inwardly. He remembered many years of dry, cool autumn and winter weather, with days that would have allowed the young people to meet in the de Chagny garden, at least for a few minutes. But the heavy rains had turned into heavy snow, the ground was all wet and muddy, and there simply was no way for Erik to see his beloved there. Since Christine rarely left the house, it had proved impossible to organize a meeting elsewhere.

The doorbell rang and Darius went to answer the door. A few moments later he entered with a few newspapers and envelopes. "The mail, master," he announced. Nadir sighed. He was in no mood for his letters. What could be so important that it could not wait till after Christmas? He browsed through the envelopes. A few bills, a Holiday greetings card from the grocery store where they used to buy their provisions,… he suddenly sat up straight. He knew this handwriting, and that envelope was unusually heavy. He tore it open and a small key fell out. He glanced at the few lines that Mme. Giry had scribbled on a piece of paper and then he grinned.

"Erik," he screamed, "you will see her tomorrow! Mme. Giry has found a way!" Erik gave him an incredulous stare. "If you are joking right now, daroga,…" he began grumpily, but Nadir just held the short letter out to him. "Read for yourself," he encouraged his friend. Erik grasped for the letter and read:

I send you my spare house key. Have Erik wait for us there on Christmas Eve, I will try to bring Christine there for a few moments at around 3:00 p.m. A.G.

Erik looked up. "Mme. Giry's house?" he asked. Nadir nodded, handing him the key. "I do not know what she is planning, but she obviously has found an excuse to stop by at her house with Christine tomorrow afternoon. Of course, you won't be alone with your lady, Mme. Giry and Meg will probably be there as well, and I do not know, if they can bring the child, and they will probably only be able to stay for a few minutes, but the important thing is, you will be able to give Christine your gift and tell her about your new profession." Nadir smiled. Erik's radiant face told him that his friend did not care about any of the drawbacks he had just listed, as long as he would finally be able to see his Christine again.

Xxxx

The next morning, Mme. Giry suddenly started talking about the beautiful Nativity set that Meg had always loved so much when she was a child. Certainly little Philippe would love it, too. Meg smiled, she was fairly certain she knew what her mother had in mind. "Yes, it is a pity, we have not thought about it earlier," she lamented. "We could have gone home last week and picked it up, but now we are way too busy, we have to help decorate the hall and arrange all the gifts for the servants on the tables so that they can have their Christmas celebration tonight, and at 3:30 we have to be at St. Cécile, since we promised Father Robert that we would attend the children's Christmas service with Philippe…"

Mme. Giry interrupted her daughter's prattling. "Meg!" she exclaimed. "We can still do it. The church of St. Cécile is not too far away from our home. If we hurry with the decorations, we should be able to leave a bit early and stop by at our house to pick up the Nativity set!" Mother and daughter grinned at each other. Their plan seemed to work. Christine shook her head. How could they get so excited about the Nativity set? Sure, it might be nice for Philippe to have the set that she and Meg had played with as children, but… she sighed. She had other things on her mind, most notably the fact that her beautiful photograph was still lying in one of her drawers and she had no idea how she could get it to Erik.

Her mood improved significantly when Mme. Giry came to her room at a quarter past two. She was carrying a huge bag. "Hurry, Christine," she said cheerfully. "Let's dress our little boy warmly so that he won't get cold. If we want to stop by at my house to pick up the Nativity set we should leave soon!" Then she dropped her voice to a low whisper. "Where is your picture? Put it in here, quick!" Christine finally understood. A broad smile lit up her face as she picked up the gift for her Angel and dropped it in Mme. Giry's bag. Mme. Giry smiled as well. Her little scheme had made Christine happy. "It would not be Christmas," she said slowly, "or would it – without angels…" Christine hugged her.

Xxxx

It was almost 3 o'clock, when the de Chagny carriage with the three ladies and the little Vicomte stopped in front of the Giry home. "We'll only be a few minutes," Mme. Giry informed their coachman. I have a fairly good idea where I keep that Nativity set." With that she unlocked the front door and entered her house, Meg and Christine in tow, the latter with Philippe on her arm. Erik was waiting for them, standing behind the door, so that he could not be seen from outside.

Mme. Giry was touched by the longing in the eyes of her two protégés, who saw each either for the first time in weeks. She handed the wrapped picture to Christine. "Quick," she urged the two, "go to the kitchen for privacy, don't turn on any lights, stay away from the windows so that nobody can see you together. Five minutes, ten at the utmost, we can't stay much longer. Meg and I will pack the Nativity set in the meantime."

Christine and Erik did not need any further encouragement. They hurried to the small kitchen. Once there, Christine placed her son in Erik's waiting arms. "We missed you so much, Angel," she whispered. Erik's glance went from the infant to Christine and back. "I missed the two of you as well," he said, glancing at the baby. "He has grown so much," he stated. "And he has learned to smile!" Christine beamed. "Yes, but he does not smile at everybody. So far, he has only graced myself, Meg and Mme. Giry with his smile. You are only the fourth person to see it," she said. "Except for the man, who took this picture." With that she took her son back into her own arms and handed her gift to Erik. "Merry Christmas, Angel," she whispered, "from the two of us."

Erik opened his gift and stared at the beautiful photograph. His Christine and little Philippe smiled at him from the picture. "Turn it around and read the dedication," Christine encouraged him. "To our Angel, so that we can always be with him. Christine and Philippe" Erik read the inscription at the picture's backside aloud. "Oh Christine, this is the most wonderful gift I have ever received in my whole life." He wrapped his arms around mother and child, holding them as if they truly were his family. Christine smiled at him, happily. "I am so glad you like it," she whispered.

Erik then released her from his embrace and produced a nicely wrapped gift that he put into her free hand. "I have a surprise for you as well, Christine," he said. "I hope you will like it." Christine looked at the huge package in front of her. "What is it, Angel," she asked curiously. "Open it," Erik told her. She gingerly untied the nice bow and removed the paper. A heavy, leather-bound volume met her eyes. "Songs of Friendship and Trust", she read. "Lyrics and Music by Erik Chabrier."

Her eyes widened. "Erik!" she gasped. "Is this what I think it is? Did you…?" He smiled at her. "Yes. I wrote all those songs. For you and Philippe. They are currently being published by Dubois & Suligny and they are selling incredibly well." Christine beamed at him. "Oh Erik, that is wonderful! I always told you, your music should be performed in public and heard by everybody, now this will happen!" She opened the volume and read the printed dedication on the first page: "To those dear to my heart, in unending friendship and loyalty – Erik Chabrier". She glanced at him. "Us?" Erik nodded. "Yes, mostly you and Philippe. There is a song for Nadir in as well, since he helped me get this published. I could not very well put your names in here, or could I?" Christine shook her head. No, he could not have done this, not in a volume that was sold all over town, doing so would have compromised her.

"I would have hand-written a more personal dedication, but I thought you might actually want to study these songs," Erik continued apologetically, "and I feared the Comte might read it sooner or later, so I left it the way it is. You can say Mme. Giry gave you these songs, since she knows you like music and that album is all the rage in Paris right now." Christine squeezed Erik's arm. "I am so proud of you, Angel," she said. "How did you manage to submit the compositions to the publishers? Don't tell me you walked into their office in plain daylight," she inquired. "Not quite," Erik explained. "It is a long story, and Nadir is the one we have to thank for that. He got me a good deal, too," Erik chuckled. "And he is planning to re-negotiate for my next volume.."

Christine shrieked in delight. "There will be more! Oh Erik, your surprise is even better than mine! I am so delighted!" She once again snuggled up to him, her son in her arms, and Erik once again pulled them both close.

Mme. Giry entered the kitchen. "Are you two done?" she asked, looking at the two radiant faces. Her surprise had obviously been a big success. "Christine, we must hurry, I found that blasted Nativity set, and we want to be in time for the service." Christine nodded. She looked at Erik again. Who knew when they would get another chance to meet?

"I have your music," she whispered. "When I will sing your songs, I will know that you are thinking of me." Erik nodded. "And I have the picture of you and Philippe. That way, I can have the two of you always with me."

Mme. Giry was getting nervous. They were running out of time. Surely, the coachman was wondering by now what they were doing in the abandoned house for so long. "Come now, Christine," she urged the young woman. "Erik, you wait till we are gone then you leave. Keep the key for the time being," she addressed the immobile man.

"Oh Mme. Giry," Christine whispered, dropping the heavy volume into her surrogate mother's bag. "You will have to pretend that you gave this to me for Christmas. It's Erik's latest compositions, and he has actually managed to publish them!"

Mme. Giry was already on her way out, but she turned back and faced Erik once more. "You have published songs that you wrote?" she asked surprised. "How…?" Erik smiled at her. "Nadir helped me," he said. "Thanks to him, you are looking at Erik Chabrier, the successful new composer, discovered by Dubois & Suligny just in time for the Christmas sales. This volume is selling fast, Antoinette, and I am under contract for another one."

Mme. Giry smiled. She was proud of Erik. So far the only problem that she had foreseen for the couple's future had been their financial situation. Should Christine leave the de Chagny household, she would certainly lose financial support, and so far, Erik had not had a profession. But if this composing business worked as well as it sounded, he would soon be able to support a wife and a child – or two.


	21. Shock

Chapter 20 – Shock

Immediately after Christmas Christine started studying Erik's songs. She absolutely loved every single one of them. Singing his compositions, reading the lyrics he had written, was almost as good as talking to Erik in person. The melodies spoke to her of his loneliness, his feelings for her and his longing to see her again. How good it was to know that he had missed her every bit as much as she had missed him! It had been a marvelous surprise that they had been able to meet for a few minutes on Christmas Eve, but Christine could not help but wish for more. If only the weather got better soon, if not warmer, then at least dryer! She dreamily looked out of the window, into the muddy garden with its leafless trees. Never before had she waited for spring so desperately! Then she resolutely turned to her precious volume of songs again. She would try hard to master as many of them as possible by the time the weather would be good enough for Erik to come to the garden again. What a nice surprise it would be for Angel, if he heard her sing the melodies he had written for her!

Xxxx

When it suddenly stopped snowing in mid-January and a few days later the pale winter sun came out and dried the muddy earth, Nadir sighed a big sigh of relief. With adequate clothing Erik would be able to go to the de Chagny garden again within a day or two. As much as he liked his young friend, both, he and Darius, were anxiously waiting for the day when they would not have to deal with Erik's current state of mind anymore. They both were utterly tired of having to look at Erik's picture every five minutes or so and of reassuring him that yes, it was the most amazing picture they had ever seen, yes, Christine was lovely and her smile showed that she really liked Erik and was happy about his friendship, and yes, the boy was a little miracle and the cutest infant ever. In a way, Erik's excitement about the gift he had received from his Christine was endearing, but both master and servant agreed that sometimes too much could be a little bit too much.

Towards the third week of January it was finally dry enough that Erik could venture out to the de Chagny garden again. He had gone out in the afternoon, since he felt more comfortable in the dark of the early winter twilight. When he finally reached the garden, he was greeted by his own song. Christine was singing the first piece from his new album, the song about friendship, with the undertones of longing and love in the accompaniment. Erik stood and listened, mesmerized. Christine's voice was so pure and she captured the song's mood so perfectly, that he almost thought she might understand that his feelings for her were much, much deeper than friendship. It almost sounded as if she felt the same way.

He shook his head. No, this was madness. He should not be getting his hopes up again. After all, he knew how she felt about him. She did care, yes, very much so, and she had accepted him despite his face. She trusted him and she felt safe under his protection. He knew, though, that her life with the heartless de Chagny family was rather uncomfortable, and it was therefore only natural that she missed her dear friend and was longing for his presence. That was all. To read more than that into her interpretation of his song would be delusional.

Xxxx

The next morning, Erik decided to pay another visit to the de Chagny garden. It was a beautiful, sunny winter day, and he was hoping that Christine might be able to go out a bit and enjoy the wonderful weather. Of course with all the leaves gone, it was much harder for him to find a hiding place in the large garden than it had been the previous summer. There was really only one corner, where he and Christine could meet without fear of being discovered. He headed towards the group of old trees with heavy underbrush in the east corner of the garden, hoping that Christine, should she be taking a walk outside, would come that way as well. He did not have to wait long. About thirty minutes later, he saw her wander through the garden, turning this way and that and slowly but steadily approaching his hiding place.

Once she was close enough he could see that she was examining the little grove he was hiding in, as if she were looking for something – or somebody. His heart beating nervously, Erik stepped out of the shadow and showed himself to her. A bright smile spread over Christine's lovely features the moment she spotted him. She started to run and threw herself into Erik's open arms. She wrapped her own arms tightly around his back, rested her head on his chest and sighed happily, "Angel!"

It was as if time were standing still for the two, lost in each other's embrace. They stood immobile, relishing their reunion to the fullest. Christine thought that there was no safer place in the whole world than her Angel's strong arms. How good it was to feel his physical presence, to listen to the beating of his heart! Erik was overwhelmed by being able to hold his Christine again, to feel her soft body melt against his, to inhale the discreet scent of her skin and hair. He could have stayed there with her in his arms forever.

After a while Erik returned to reality. He released Christine somewhat from his embrace, and, one arm still around her shoulder, he whispered, "I heard you sing last night. You moved me to tears, you really caught the essence of my song." Christine beamed. His praise meant the world to her. "It is such a beautiful, haunting melody," she said, "so full of longing. Did you really miss me that much?" Erik nodded, and then they started to talk about music in general, Erik's songs and Christine's voice in particular.

When Christine returned to the house half an hour later, her cheeks a fresh pink, her eyes shining, Mme. Giry did not have to ask what she had been doing in the cold garden for that long.

Xxxx

The first week of February the old Comte summoned his daughter-in-law to his study. Christine had a strong sense of foreboding, when she entered the room. In her opinion the dark oak-paneling gave the study a gloomy atmosphere, just as gloomy as she felt at the thought of having to face her late husband's father.

When Christine entered, the Comte was turning his back to her, looking out of the window. Christine nervously cleared her throat. "You asked to see me, Monsieur le Comte?" she asked shyly. The Comte looked at her over his shoulder. "Ah yes, Madame," he said coldly, finally turning around to face her. He did not offer her a seat, instead he looked her over appraisingly from head to toe, as if she were a piece of cattle, the value of which he was going to determine. Christine shivered uneasily under his rude scrutiny. She was furious that he treated her that way, but did not dare ask him if she could sit down.

After a while the old man addressed her. "It seems you are preparing to return to the stage, Madame?" Christine looked at him, uncomprehending. "What makes you think so?" she asked surprised. The old Comte grimaced at her. "Why else would you desecrate this house of mourning with your profane singing?" he spat at her. "If it were not for my grandson, I would have removed you months ago, but this stupid doctor seems to think you have to personally breast-feed the little Vicomte or else the child will be somehow harmed. Bah," he continued full of contempt, "as if a wet nurse could not do the job just as well."

Christine shivered at so much open hostility. She was not sure what to say and therefore just waited for the Comte to reveal the reason why he had summoned her. Surely insulting her was not the main purpose of this meeting?

The Comte had obviously expected some reaction from the "comedian", but when Christine remained silent, he finally continued. "As it is, your obvious desire to return to the stage and to continue with your triumphs as prima donna perfectly meets with our desire to see you removed from our family," he stated, his words stinging Christine like icicles. "Of course you will have to renounce our noble name once you return to such an ignoble profession," he sounded as if he thought the stage of an Opera house was no different from the beds in a brothel.

Christine's head swam. Who had said she wanted to return to the stage? Had the Opera Populaire even been rebuilt yet? Why was the Comte assuming she would want to use the de Chagny-name in case she really wanted to perform again? After all, it had been Christine Daaé the audience had grown to love. Who would care for Christine de Chagny?

It was as if the old man could read her thoughts. "No, Madame," he smirked at her. "It would be just as inappropriate to use your maiden name. Thanks to a certain… affair… which lead to the destruction of the famous Opera Populaire and thanks to my late son's involvement in this scheme, the name Daaé is too closely linked to the de Chagny-name. Once you leave this house to return to your theater world, you will need a new name."

Christine had a feeling as if the old Comte was speaking in riddles. She still had not figured out why the fact that she was singing again supposedly meant she wanted to leave the de Chagnys. She certainly did not enjoy having to put up with their hatred, but they were her son's family and Raoul would have wanted her to stay here and to have his child raised in the place where he had grown up. Of course, if she ever were to leave the de Chagnys, she supposed she would have to find work as a singer or dancer again, to support herself and her son. But since she had no plans of doing so anytime soon, she did not quite understand why it suddenly seemed so important what name she would use should she ever work as a performer again.

She looked at the old Comte blankly. "A new name? But how.. why?" she asked, completely dumbfounded. "How?" the old Comte sneered. "A marriage, of course!" Christine sat up straight. "You want me to remarry?" she asked in shock. The Comte nodded. "That would indeed be the best solution for everybody involved," he stated. "If you remarried you could either perform again or live with your new family, preferably somewhere far from Paris. Either way we would not be responsible for you any longer, and you would be cared for by your new husband."

Christine shivered at the thought of remarrying, at the embarrassing indignities marriage involved for a woman. This had been barely tolerable with Raoul, whom she loved, but under no circumstances was she going to submit to such activities ever again. "What if I do not wish to remarry?" she dared to ask.

The Comte looked at her as if she were mentally ill. Nobody had ever dared disobey his instructions! "What makes you think you have any say in this?" his voice was dripping icicles again. "The boy will be six months old next week, you can then start to wean him off. There is no need to pamper him any more by then. Once you have weaned him off, you will leave that house with your new husband. I give you that long to choose somebody. I am sure one or the other of your former colleagues or admirers will only be too pleased to claim the returning prima donna as his prize." To Christine's ears his words sounded like: "I am sure one or the other of your former lovers will be offering you his name if it means he can claim exclusive rights to your body."

Still shaking she confronted the old man again. "And if I do not find a suitable husband in such a short time?" she asked. "Then," the Comte said, "I will pick one for you. My tenant at the farm near Limoges recently lost his wife. You could marry him, for instance. He is, of course more than

twice your age and has five children, but I bet he would feel honored if I offered you to him." Christine shivered at that thought. "You would really do that?" she whispered, "you would sell me to your tenant and send me and Philippe away to Limoges.."

"Who said anything about Philippe?" the old man thundered. "You are the one to leave my house, you and your two theater wenches. My grandson stays here." Christine felt like she would die on the spot, so shocked was she at this revelation. She knew that something terrible would happen if she stayed only one moment longer. She summoned all her strength and slowly turned to the door. "If you will excuse me, Monsieur le Comte," she whispered with as much dignity as she could muster and walked out of the room. She never knew how she managed to reach her own room, but as soon as her doors had closed behind her she collapsed. Mme. Giry just barely reached her in time to catch her.

Xxxx

Christine regained consciousness only an hour later, and even then, Mme. Giry could not make any sense of the few words Christine got out. The young woman was in the throes of a heavy crying fit and did not seem to be able to stop. Mme. Giry was furious. It was only too obvious that the mean old Comte had somehow hurt the sensitive young woman.

"Sh, Christine," she tried to comfort her surrogate daughter, "it will be fine. I am here now, he cannot insult you anymore, and you know, words are harmless. He cannot really hurt you with words, just himself,…" Christine shook her head. "No! He wants Philippe. He wants me to give up my son!" her body shaking with violent tears, she fell back onto her pillow and continued to cry.

Mme. Giry was speechless. She knew that there was no love lost between the Comte and his daughter-in-law, but that he would resort to that kind of cruelty surprised even her. She hugged the sobbing woman closely. "Don't worry, Christine, you are not alone. We won't let that happen. Let's discuss this with Erik and Nadir. These men are resourceful, I am sure they will find a solution to the problem at hand." Christine's face lit up. "My Angel," she sighed, full of hope. "He has always protected me, he might find a way out of this dilemma now as well."

Mme. Giry nodded. If anybody could stand his ground against the Comte and fight for Christine's rights, it would be the man that loved her. They would have to get Erik involved immediately. "So, I will send Meg to the post office with a note for our dear neighbor," she informed Christine. "And you will try to get some rest. If you won't cry anymore and promise to sleep a bit, maybe you will be strong enough tomorrow morning for a short stroll in the park," she said, a twinkle in her eyes. Christine immediately dried her tears and lay back. She certainly wanted to meet her Angel the next morning and tell him of the terrible fate ahead of her.

Xxxx

The next morning, Nadir got Mme. Giry's note in the morning mail. "Erik must come this morning, Christine needs help," was all she had scribbled on the piece of paper. Nadir was not quite sure what could have happened, but Mme. Giry sounded urgent. He was thinking how he could break the news to Erik without alarming his friend too much. There was no need to worry before they had any details and knew what really had happened and how bad it was.

Erik looked up from his breakfast. "Another note from Antoinette?" he asked, curiously. "What is the matter?" Nadir shook his head. "I do not know, but it sounds urgent. I guess you'd better go and see…" he drawled, handing the note to Erik, who quickly read the few words and paled. "What's the matter with Christine?" he whispered, in shock. "Is Théophile-Auguste back and we missed his return? Has he somehow harmed her?" Nadir sighed. "I don't think it's that, but I really do not know any more than you do, Erik. I guess you will have to go to the de Chagny garden and see if you can talk to Christine or one of the two Giry-women."

Erik nodded. That was indeed the only viable option. He quickly gulped down his breakfast, then put on his cloak and wide-brimmed hat and ventured out in the cold February morning, towards the de Chagny mansion. Christine was waiting for him in the same place where they had met recently. Erik was relieved to see her unharmed. Whatever the problem she needed help with, they would be able to solve it, as long as nobody had hurt or injured her. "Angel," she threw herself into his arms, sobbing heavily, and only now did he notice that her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

"Christine," he said comfortingly, rubbing her back to calm her down. "Sh, don't cry. Tell me what's the matter and I will do everything in my power to help you. You can trust me!" She nodded, sobbing into his shirt. "The Comte,…" she started. Erik tensed. That old villain! He hated the man with a passion for the way he normally treated Christine. "What about him?" he managed to ask calmly. He realized that he would not be able to help Christine by getting angry himself. "He wants to get rid of me," she sobbed, "and to take Philippe away from me!"


	22. Countermeasures

Chapter 21 – Countermeasures

"Oh my God," Erik whispered in shock, instinctively drawing Christine closer to give her the feeling that she had reached a safe haven. He looked around, and when he spotted the small iron garden bench under one of the larger trees, he took Christine in his arms and carried her to the bench, where he slowly sat down, Christine in his lap, wrapping his cloak around both of them.

"You are safe and warm now, Christine," he whispered into her ear. "Now tell me everything. Every detail you remember. It might be important to help us find a solution for this dilemma. But rest assured, I will find a way. I will not allow anybody to separate you from Philippe. The two of you belong together, and the boy needs you as much as you need him." Christine nodded, still sobbing into Erik's shirt. The memory of the horrible scene with the old Comte was still painful, for her and she had to interrupt herself a few times, breaking into tears again. Erik just held her comfortingly, and after a while Christine relaxed a bit. Her Angel's physical presence, his strong arms around her, the warmth of his cloak, his manly, musky scent, which she loved so much, helped her to calm down.

"At first he assumed I had taken up singing again, because I want to go back to the stage," she told Erik, "and then he said I could not use the de Chagny-name while performing, which I would not have done anyway, for everybody knows me as Christine Daaé." Erik nodded, no matter what her current last name, the audience would always see her as "La Daaé". "And then he said I had to change my name again by getting married," she sighed, "but of course I don't want to do that, and who should I marry anyway?" Erik felt like somebody had struck him right in the face. Oh how much this innocent little comment hurt him! That she did not want to remarry, he could somewhat understand. She apparently had loved the Vicomte so much, that she wanted to remain faithful to him and could not bear the thought of giving herself to another man. But to think that this woman, who was clinging to him like to a lifeline, who knew how much and how deeply he loved her, that he would do anything to make her happy, that this woman did not seem to even remotely consider him as a possible solution when forced to pick a husband within a short period, that was a blow he had not anticipated. Did she not know, that, even as her husband, he would not touch her, unless she explicitly told him she wanted him to? She would not have to betray her late husband by marrying him. He would respect all her wishes, accept any condition she might ask of him.

Erik shook his head. He could not dwell on his disappointment right now. That was his problem. That could wait. Christine's dilemma was much more urgent. She needed his full attention this very moment. "But even if I marry somebody, I can't take Philippe with me," Christine whispered right now. "And I have to marry, whether I want to or not. If I do not find a husband by the time Philippe is weaned off, I will have to marry the tenant from the Limoges-area and go with him. He is a widower with five kids and I have never even seen him! I do not want anything to do with him!" Erik sighed. This was even worse than he had thought. Apparently Christine could not just leave the house on her own, she had to marry somebody, so she would not bear the de Chagny-name anymore. But even if she remarried, she would not be able to keep the child.

Erik's mind raced. Was this even possible? Could the grandfather withhold the child from the mother if the latter remarried? What was the legal situation? Surely, if the new husband was of ill reputation or otherwise objectionable, the old Comte would be able to do what he had planned, but what if….

"It might work," he suddenly murmured. Christine sat up straight. "What did you say, Angel? Do you have any idea, what I can do?" Her beautiful brown eyes looked at him so trustingly and hopefully, that his heart melted, almost making him forget his heartache just a few moments ago. He would do anything for her, anything, to help her keep her son. "I am not sure," he said hesitatingly. "I just had an idea, but I do not know if it will work. I am afraid, I am not too knowledgeable in the area of family law," he added. Christine sighed. "What do you have in mind?" Erik shook his head. "I'd rather check into this before discussing it with you. I really have to be certain that what I am thinking of is watertight, that the old Comte will have no legal way of counteracting our plan. But even if this idea that I just had proves to be unviable, I promise you, you will not leave this house without your son, and you will not have to marry anybody like this tenant from Limoges. I swear to you, I won't let that happen, if I have to abduct you and Philippe and hide you somewhere abroad, though this would obviously be the last resort. Do you trust me on this, Christine?" Christine nodded and smiled at him adoringly, melting his heart even further.

"I knew you would help me, Angel," she sighed. Erik pulled her close. "Can you stall for time?" he asked her. "I will have to get legal advice, probably check several sources and compare notes, in order to have all the necessary information, and even if what I have in mind does turn out to be doable, it will probably take a few weeks as well to get everything arranged. Nadir will have to help me, too. If the Comte asks you again, tell him you are considering his proposal and trying to think of who you might want to marry. At the same time, try to slow down the weaning off…" Erik blushed when it occurred to him that he was discussing an activity which involved a very female part of Christine's anatomy. It was not really proper for a gentleman to talk about such things.

Christine grinned. She had not noticed Erik's embarrassment when he mentioned her breast-feeding of her son, but she knew pretty well that Philippe would have his own ideas about this issue. "I guess the old Comte will have to talk to Philippe about that," she giggled. "The boy only allows me, Mme. Giry and Meg near him. Of course I am the only one who can feed him…" She finally realized that this particular subject was considered off-limits for a polite discussion, and blushed just as deeply as Erik. "But ," she continued, slightly embarrassed, "I bet my little one will scream like hell if the Comte asks somebody else to take care of him."

Erik smiled at her. "He is a smart little guy," he said proudly. "This reaction of his will probably work in our favor." He then returned to the problem at hand. "I have to go, Christine. I have a lot of things to check and to discuss with Nadir. It will take a few days at least, a week maybe. I am not sure, when I will be able to tell you for sure what we can or cannot do. But I will not desert you. You must promise me to calm down and to have faith that everything will turn out just fine. Don't get yourself all worked up about this anymore. You can't make yourself sick about this." His voice held so much genuine concern and caring, that Christine just had to hug him even closer. "I promise," she whispered, "but please, Angel, hurry. I will only be able to relax completely, once we have found a way that allows me to leave this house together with my son."

Xxxx

"Are you serious?" Nadir looked at Erik as if the latter had lost his mind. "Do you honestly think you can do this?" Erik shook his head. "This is not the point here. I need to know about the legal aspect. If my plan has a chance of working, then, yes, that is exactly what I will do. And I hope Christine will agree to it. If on the other hand, we find out that we would not stand a chance against the Comte that way, then this whole discussion is mute anyway."

Nadir shook his head. In his opinion there were a whole lot of details that needed to be considered, other than the legal situation, Erik's feelings for Christine being among the more important ones. While Nadir was still convinced that sooner or later whatever was still keeping these two apart would be resolved, what Erik had in mind would certainly further complicate their relationship and had the potential of putting a lot of emotional strain on his friend. He was not sure if he should allow Erik to go ahead with this plan, even if it had a chance of succeeding, which they still were not a hundred percent sure it did. On the other hand, he had to admit that he had no idea what else could be done to make sure Christine could safely get away from the de Chagnys with her son. It might well be that Erik's idea was the only possible solution. In that case his friend really had no choice.

He sighed, resignedly. "Erik, I have a bad feeling about this whole affair, and if I could think of any other way, I would most definitely try my best to advise you against that course of action, but unfortunately, I cannot come up with an alternative. Since you are determined to try this, I will get started immediately to get you all the necessary information. But it will take a few days. I am planning on checking the libraries first, reading up on the subject, before actually approaching a specialist in family law. I want to be able to ask very specific questions." Erik nodded. "Do what you think works best," he said, "and if you can get your hands on books on that subject, bring them here, four eyes see more than two. But please, when you go and ask for advice, be very vague, don't name any names and don't get too much into details regarding the family situation. We would not want somebody to realize which family you are talking about. This might alert the old Comte to our plan."

"Of course, Erik, you can count on me to be careful," he reassured his young friend. He put on his coat and hat and left for the public library, hoping to find all relevant information on child custody and the various relatives' rights in that regard.

Xxxx

Five days later, a very tired Nadir stumbled into their apartment. He feared that tonight he would probably be dreaming about marriages, divorces, inheritance, child custody and all the other aspects of family law he had been studying those past few days. If he closed his eyes he imagined seeing the §-sign, and he had a feeling that if he had to analyze one more legal text, he would start to scream. There simply were too many exceptions, special cases and footnotes for his taste, rendering his current task unnecessarily difficult.

Erik looked just as weary. He had barely slept those past few days, going through a stack of books Nadir had taken home from the library, but the only thing he understood right now, was, that whatever they would try, there was no guarantee that the Comte would not gain the upper hand by invoking this or that rarely used exception.

"Any news," he asked Nadir, his voice betraying his frustration. Nadir sighed. "I may have found something, but I am not sure we will be able to meet all the necessary requirements," he explained. Erik looked at him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "It is a rare practice, but it is perfectly legal," Nadir showed his notes to Erik, who eagerly read through the few paragraphs. He frowned, as he reread Nadir's scribbling, noticing a few details that might constitute a problem. "Hm, I see what you mean," he said after a while. "But this seems to be our best hope. We will have to try and make it work. If I understand correctly, if we do this, the Comte would have to go to court in order to get custody, which not only has the potential of causing a major scandal, but would also mean, he would deprive the little Vicomte of some financial means, thus making him look like a bad relative who does not have the child's best interests at heart?"

Nadir nodded. "The court would be his only chance, if we can do this. I seriously doubt, though, that he would want his family affairs all over the papers, which would be unavoidable, should he decide to file for custody under those circumstances. Considering how he reacted to Christine's little speech at Raoul's funeral, I think we can safely assume that he would want to avoid any further publicity involving his family." Nadir chuckled. "I am fairly certain, the Comte still has his hands full with trying to make people forget that his daughter-in-law practically accused the de Chagny-family of having tried to kill her and her unborn child. He would definitely not be keen on getting his precious name involved in yet another scandal. Of course, Christine's loveliness would speak in our favor as well as your newfound fame as fashionable composer and your generosity. The fact that his actions would cost his grandson part of his inheritance should also have some weight."

Erik agreed. He, too, was convinced that the possibility of the old Comte actually taking the case to court was rather slim, if, and that was the point, if they could pull through what the paragraph Nadir had copied described. He once again looked through the list of requirements necessary for the legal action he planned. Some were no problem at all, some could be met if they worked on it – and if Christine agreed, but there were a few details that had him concerned.

Nadir just pointed to the most obvious problem. "I do not think you have a valid birth certificate?" he asked Erik. "If I remember correctly, you ran away from home at a fairly young age and fell into the hands of a group of gypsies shortly afterward. Somehow I don't see you carrying your birth certificate when you ran away, and even if you had done so, I doubt the gypsies would have left you in possession of the document," he stated flatly. Erik winced. That would be one of the major problems. "Can I somehow procure me one somewhere?" he asked, desperately. Nadir shook his head. "I have a feeling a forgery won't do in this case. Also, if you used a forgery and the Comte somehow found out, this would be to his advantage. Everything we do must be beyond reproach."

Erik's temper rose. He slammed his fist against the wall. "Nadir, we are so close. We can't let this stupid detail get in our way! Why on earth would this require a birth certificate? Would it not be enough if you confirmed my identity, and Darius as well, or maybe Antoinette? Even M. Dubois could vouch for my person," he continued to rage. Nadir shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, Erik. I do believe you, when you tell me your name is Erik Chabrier, son of Charles Chabrier and his wife Madeleine, née Noisset, born in Boscherville, 36 years old. And I am sure, Darius and Antoinette believe you as well. As for M. Dubois, he has seen my credentials and therefore had no reason to doubt my words when I gave him these details about your person. But ultimately, none of us has ever seen proof of all this, and that is the problem. When it comes to legal actions of the delicacy this case requires, your identity must be established without the tiniest semblance of doubt."

Erik fell into a chair, exhausted. He had feared as much. "Nadir, I need to do this, but I do not have my birth certificate for the reasons you stated earlier. It never occurred to me I would need it one day when I ran away. Not that I would have known where my mother kept such things," he added bitterly. "I am not even sure I knew back then what a birth certificate was."

Nadir put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "There must be a way," he reassured the agitated young man. "There must be something we have not thought about yet." Erik sighed. "And what would that be?" he asked frustrated. "A duplicate!" Nadir's eyes sparkled. "Do you think you might be able to get an authenticated duplicate?" Erik looked up. "How? You said just yourself that your vouching for my identity would not be enough. That is the only way I can imagine for me to get a duplicate issued, if somebody were able to prove beyond any doubt to the authorities that I am who I say I am." Nadir's face fell, but suddenly it hit him. "Erik," he shouted. "What about your hometown? Surely there must be people who remember you? Even if you have changed a lot since they last saw you, your face would be incontrovertible proof of your identity!"

Erik hesitated. The mere thought of Boscherville made him sick. He had suffered too much there at a very young age. Nadir insisted. "Look Erik, that would also help us incredibly with this." He pointed at one line in his notes and read aloud: "The application can either be filed with a registrar representative of the arrondissement where the applicant is currently living or of the arrondissement of origin of said applicant, if not the same." He beamed. "Erik, if you get the authorities in Boscherville involved, you can file the application with them, and if they are handling your case, chances that the old Comte will get wind of this too soon will be reduced to an absolute minimum."

Erik sighed. As much as he hated the thought of revisiting the home of his disastrous childhood, he saw the wisdom in doing so.

"I will take the first train tomorrow morning," he said resignedly. "That way I can be in Boscherville tomorrow afternoon. Assuming that one day is enough to get the duplicate, I might be able to take the late night train back the day after tomorrow." Nadir smiled at him encouragingly. "Good luck, Erik. For the first time I have a feeling that we can indeed pull this off."


	23. Boscherville

Chapter 22 – Boscherville

Marie Perrault had been visiting with a friend and was on her way back home. It was not really that late yet, but it had been a rather cloudy day and it was already getting dark. She hurried along, to get back to her own cozy, warm home where she would be able to turn on the light. She hated the winter months, when the days were so short and it got dark halfway through the afternoon.

She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Had she been daydreaming or had somebody actually called her name? "Marie!" There it was a again. Marie turned around to see who had called her. She certainly did not recognize the voice, but noticed that it was a rich baritone. "Who is there?" she asked, slightly scared. The friend she had been visiting lived a bit outside the little town and Marie currently found herself in a place where the nearest house was about five minutes away.

A tall, well-clad man suddenly stepped out of the shadows. Marie could see that he was fairly young, maybe in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat at what she thought was a rather unusual angle. He moved closer to the lonely street lantern and when the light from the lantern highlighted his left profile, she gasped. The stranger looked every bit the way her friend Madeleine's husband Charles had looked around the time of his and Madeleine's wedding.

"Oh my God," Marie whispered. "Is this one of the nights where the dead come back and walk the earth?" The stranger chuckled. It was a rather harmonious sound, and Marie suddenly was not afraid anymore. "I have no idea who you think I am, Marie," the stranger finally said, "but I can assure you that I am most definitely not dead." He hesitated a moment, then took off his hat and turned to face her fully. "I am Erik," he said. "Erik Chabrier. Your friend Madeleine's son." Marie stared at the white mask covering the right side of the man's face – that part of his face that she knew was horribly disfigured.

"Erik," she whispered. Was it possible? Could the skinny abused boy she had known more than two decades ago and the elegant tall man in front of her really be the same person? The stranger's strong resemblance with Erik's father seemed to support his claim, and the mask certainly was hiding the right portion of his face, but was it really him? There was only one way to be absolutely sure. "Erik," she addressed the man. "If it really is you, take off the mask, I need to see your face." When she saw him wince, she was almost a hundred percent certain that she was talking to Madeleine's son. She smiled at him. "Erik, you can show me. I have seen your face before, I know what you look like."

The young man nodded, resignedly. "I will show you," he said, "but not here in the open where it is possible that others will come by and see me." Marie smiled at him. "Come with me, then," she said. "I guess you still know your way around town, do you?" He sighed. "A lot of things have changed, there are houses now where there used to be meadows, but I think I know how to get to your home from here." With that he turned and started to walk towards her home. "It really is him," Marie thought in awe. "I have no idea how that boy could have survived, but it is him. Madeleine was right after all. Her boy is still alive." Her eyes scrutinized the man walking in front of her. "He is strong and healthy, well-clad and seems to have good manners," she thought. "It is a pity Madeleine can't see him now. She would be so proud of him!"

A few minutes later he stopped in front of a small cottage. "I take it you still live here, Marie?" he asked. She nodded. She did not really need any further proof, but she had a feeling the Mayor would. She slipped her key out of her pocket and unlocked the front door. "Come on in, Erik," she said.

"So do you believe me now?" he asked sarcastically. Marie nodded, leading him to her parlor and inviting him to sit down. "I think I knew I could trust you the moment you started talking to me," she said. "And then, when you stood there in the light of that lantern," she sighed, gazing at his face again. Dear God, how much he resembled his father! "I thought Charles was standing right there in front of me," she continued. "You are the spitting image of your father." Erik sighed. "Except for that," he said bitterly, pointing at his mask.

Marie put a comforting hand on his arm. "You have other qualities to make up for this, Erik," she said. Erik looked up at her, puzzled. She had not seen him since he had been about ten years old, what could she possibly know about him? "Like what?" he asked lightly. Marie smiled at him warmly. "Some things never change," she thought. "His personality is much the same than when I last saw him." Turning to Erik she explained. "The little boy I remember was a very sensitive child, he would have been very warm and caring if anybody had cared for his love." She looked down, feeling a bit guilty. She knew she had tried to give him some of the love he had needed, but the stubborn boy had only longed for the love of one single person – his mother. She now wondered if she had not failed him just as much as Madeleine had, by not trying harder to make her friend understand how very special her poor little son was despite everything. "You also were the brightest little boy I ever met," she continued. "You had no trouble grasping the most complex problems and you were Father Mansart's star pupil." Erik looked up at her. He had almost forgotten about the old priest. Marie continued her enumeration of Erik's qualities. "And you had the most beautiful singing voice and could play the piano like no other," she said enthusiastically.

Erik was surprised. It seemed she knew him well after all. "Thank you, Marie," he said quietly. She squeezed his arm comfortingly. "You were a good boy, Erik," she continued, "despite everything. In the end Madeleine understood that as well. I wish she could still be with us today. She would be so proud of you, if she could see you now!" Erik had his doubts about this, but Marie's next words came to him almost as a shock.

"Erik, you know that I do need no further proof of your identity," she said calmly. "But the Mayor may ask me to swear an oath on the Holy Bible that I recognize you, and this oath may include me having seen your face." Erik startled. "How come you know why I am here?" he asked alarmed. She could not possibly know about his plans to help Christine keep her son, or could she?

Marie smiled at him. "I do not think there are many reasons why you would come here, after all you've been through in this little town," she said. "You came for your inheritance, did you not?"

Erik stared at her. Relief that his plans were still a secret washed through him, when he realized what she had just said. "Inheritance?" he mumbled, confused. Marie beamed at him. "Of course, Erik! Didn't you know that you are Madeleine's only heir?" she asked. "She never believed that you were dead, she always hoped you would come back one day. She did regret how she treated you. Once you were gone, she missed you terribly and she began to understand what she had done to you. She left everything to you, the house, her money, her jewelry. Since you were considered dead, she had to make her will read that should you return within ten years of her death, you should be her heir, otherwise you would be presumed dead and most of her belongings would go to charity in that case. She only died about five years ago," Marie continued. "You can claim your inheritance right away. I will go with you to the Mayor tomorrow and we will settle the affair. But you will have to show me your face first, so that I can swear that I recognized it."

Erik looked at her dumbfounded. "I knew nothing about this," he said. "I came here because I wanted to ask you to help me get a duplicate of my birth certificate, and of course I knew you would have to actually see my face in order to proof my identity." He shook his head, then he resolutely reached for the ties of his mask and removed it. To his immense surprise Marie smiled at his disfigured face. "Oh Erik," she beamed. "Welcome home!"

Erik tried to hastily replace his mask, but the elderly woman grasped his hand. "You don't have to put it back on, Erik," she said. "After all, I carried you in my arms when you were a little boy, I have seen your face plenty of times, before you started hiding it." She did not want to remind him that it had been his own mother who had insisted he wear a mask to spare her the disgusting sight of his crippled face.

"You won't need a duplicate of your birth certificate," she smiled. "All your documents are in order and safely stored in the house which is now yours by your mother's last will. Your parents' wedding certificate, their death certificates, your certificate of baptism, birth certificate, everything." She knew Madeleine had kept all those family documents. "My boy may need them one day," she had said to Marie. "When my Erik finally comes home, he shall find everything in order."

A thought struck her suddenly. He needed his birth certificate. There were not many occasions she could think of when one needed this particular document. But she now remembered a conversation in a train she had had a few months ago, about a young couple, the man being the son of one of her friends. Her travel companion had assumed the couple had been married, but this would not easily have been possible since Erik had no documents. She guessed he was planning on righting a wrong by finally marrying the mother of his child.

She smiled at him. "So it was you!" she stated. "That husband taking his wife to Paris, that my travel companion told me about. She said the man was the son of one of my friends but I could not believe it really could have been you!"

Erik blushed. He vaguely remembered the old lady who had shared a compartment with him and Christine last summer. He had mentioned being from Boscherville, had he not? And the friendly old lady had mentioned Marie and asked him if he knew her and he had said yes, she had been his mother's friend and a positive childhood memory. He nodded. "Yes, that was me," he said flatly.

Marie got all excited. "So you have a family, Erik? I have not even asked what you have been doing all these years that you have been away from home. So do start telling me about your lady. Where did you meet … Lise? That's her name, right? And what about the baby?"

Erik shook his head. "Her name is not really Lise," he began, "and the child she was carrying last summer is not mine either, but yes, she is the one and only woman in my heart." His eyes were shining with so much love that Marie was deeply touched. "I was right," she thought, "he _is_ the most loving and caring man a woman can wish for. Whoever she is, that girl is blessed to be loved like that, despite his face."

"Tell me about her, Erik," she said. "I want to know everything about the woman who stole your heart." Erik looked at Marie hesitatingly. How much could he tell her? "Her name is Christine," he finally revealed. "She is of Swedish ancestry and comes from a family of musicians. We have known each other for years, since she was a small girl. I was her music teacher," he added as an afterthought. "When the girl grew into a beautiful woman, I fell in love," he admitted. "But, my face…" he hesitated. "She did not know the truth yet, and I was afraid I would lose her even as a friend, so I delayed talking to her. When she finally learned the truth, things went all wrong." Erik remembered how he had raged at Christine when she had taken his mask off for the first time. He had been so scared, so afraid that everything between them would be over before it had even begun. He had overreacted badly and in doing so he had scared her as well.

Erik closed his eyes to clear his mind. "It was probably too late already anyway. Her childhood friend had re-entered her life, and he was everything I am not." Erik sounded bitter. "He was younger than me, closer in age to her, and he had a pretty, human face, not a dead skull like me. And he had a title and a position in society." Erik sighed. "It was only natural that she would fall for him. It broke my heart and I did some really stupid things," he confessed. "But I ultimately realized that I could not force her to stay with me against her will." Marie shuddered. Had he actually tried to force, bribe, blackmail this young girl to stay with him when she was in love with another guy?

Erik noticed her reaction and nodded sadly. "Yes, I treated her poorly at that time," he admitted, "but in the end I sent her off myself with her young man, even though losing her almost killed me," he whispered. Marie's heart went out to him. How much he must love that woman if losing her had almost killed him! And how sad that this sensitive, loving man had once again had to face rejection because of his mangled face. But then she remembered something. "They were very much in love with each other despite the age difference," her travel companion had said. That woman had been positive that the love had been mutual. Had this girl changed her mind about Erik after all?

"Tell me all, Erik," she encouraged him. "That's not the end of it yet, right?" He shook his head. "No," he said. "That's only the beginning. She did marry her boy, but the marriage did not turn out too well. Her husband's family is terrible and they treated her like dirt. Still do," he added sadly. "One relative in particular turned out to be a threat. When her husband died shortly before their baby was due, that relative tried to get rid of her and the child. He wanted the child's inheritance," Erik added. He glanced at Marie. Had he revealed too much? Was it obvious that he was talking about Christine de Chagny? "A friend of mine had learned about this relative's plans, so he and I were able to rescue her. I brought her safely back home, but since I did not know if this relative was still looking for her, we used the false name Lise to shake him off our tracks," Erik explained. Marie nodded, she understood only too well. She had a feeling she already knew the end of the story.

"She still loves her dead husband," Erik continued. "But from the moment we met again we have been best friends. She trusts me, she relies on me and she feels safe under my protection. She has had her baby in the meantime, and he is adorable. He actually likes me!" Erik grinned with almost fatherly pride. He reached into his breast pocket and took out his precious picture. "That's her with the child," he said, looking fondly at the picture, then showing it to Marie. "She gave this to me as a Christmas gift," he explained, "so that I could have them always with me. She had the picture taken specifically for that reason."

Marie looked at the photograph. A pretty young woman, holding an adorable baby was smiling back at her. Her travel companion had been right. The young mother really was barely more than a child. Long dark curls framed her exquisite face, and her expressive dark eyes showed a plethora of emotions: longing, affection, tenderness, trust. Since Erik had told her that the picture had been taken explicitly as a gift for him, she had no doubt that all these emotions were directed at him. "She may not love him yet," Marie thought, "but she looks as if she were on the best way of losing her heart to him. And with his sense of aesthetics, I am not surprised he fell for such a beauty."

Marie returned the picture to Erik. "She is lovely," she said, smiling, "and her infant is awfully cute." Erik beamed at Marie's kind words about his Christine and the little boy who had stolen his heart. "Her father-in-law wants her to leave the family by remarrying. He has threatened to find a husband for her if she does not find one herself." Marie grasped for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She was certain now that Erik was planning to marry the woman, but even though their marriage might start out as one of convenience, she was convinced they would end up being very happy together.

"But he wants to keep the child," Erik continued. "I have found a way that might prevent him from taking the boy away from his mother, but it requires a legal action. If Christine agrees with my plan, and I hope she will, I will need my birth certificate in order to file the necessary application."

Marie looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Why is this so complicated? In a case of disputed custody most judges will decide in favor of the mother," she stated.

Erik nodded. "In most cases, yes. But the old man has power and influence. I think I mentioned that Christine's husband had a title? Well, his father is the Comte de Chagny."


	24. Forgiveness

Chapter 23 – Forgiveness

"De Chagny?" Marie repeated the name. "Wait a minute. Wasn't there a big story in the papers last summer, about the mysterious disappearance and reappearance of the young widow?" she asked. Erik nodded. Marie now remembered that here had also been some rather derogatory comments on the young woman's past, her involvement with a murdering psychopath, a disfigured madman. She glanced at Erik. He did not look like a killer or madman to her, but she had a feeling he was the man mentioned in that article.

"Erik," Marie began hesitatingly. "There is more to this story than you have told me, right?" The pained look in his eyes told her she had guessed correctly. She reached for his arm again, to comfort him, then said very quietly. "Erik, I am your godmother and your mother's best friend. When Madeleine and I talked about you after you had left, we always referred to you as "our boy". I do love you and I _will_ help you, but I need to know the whole truth. When you were a child you used to confide in me how much you craved your mother's love. Do you still trust me, my boy?" She smiled at him. "Now tell me everything, Erik. From the start. What happened when you ran away all those years ago?"

A deep sigh escaped Erik, and Marie put her arm around his shoulder. Suddenly he began to speak, slowly at first, then words began to pour out of his mouth as if a dam had been broken inside of him. He told her everything, starting with his time as "The Devil's Child" in a traveling gypsy fair, his escape with Antoinette's help, his encounter with Nadir in Persia, his return to Paris, his role as Christine's Angel of Music, the dealings of the infamous Opera Ghost, Buquet, his own shenanigans to keep Christine when she was starting to slip away from him, finally "Don Juan Triumphant", the madness that had taken over once Christine had removed his mask in front of everybody, the chandelier, the fire, the choice he had forced her to make, her two kisses which had made him see the wrongness of his ways, his sacrifice, his long illness, his worry for Christine, her rescue and their newfound friendship. Erik did not leave out anything.

By the time he was finished, both he and Marie were crying. Marie held the sobbing man in her arms just like she had held the boy he had been all those years ago, rocking him like a baby to comfort him and to reassure him. "Sshh, Erik," she whispered soothingly, talking to him like she had when he had been a boy. "It is all right. Marie is here to help you, my boy." She gently stroked his hair.

Marie was at least as agitated by Erik's story as he himself. What had the boy been through! It was no wonder that his own self-esteem had suffered terribly considering how he had been abused by almost everybody because of his face. It was no surprise either that he had reacted with the only way he had known how to retaliate – with anger and violence. But she also had a feeling that Erik was about to put his past behind and to start anew. When he had described his reaction to Christine's kisses, Marie knew that his love for this woman had helped him to make the first step in the right direction, and with Christine back in his life, Marie had no doubt that Madeleine's son was finally finding his place in life.

When Erik had calmed down a little, Marie took his hand and said softly, "none of this is exclusively your fault, Erik. We all here in Boscherville are just as much to blame for your actions as you are. We failed you terribly, all of us, me, your mother, everybody who knew that Madeleine had a child but never asked about you, thus making it possible for her to keep you locked up in that terrible attic. Every child deserves love. It was so wrong that we could not give it to you when you were starving for affection, for acceptance. I think none of us realized that a child with a handicap, and in a way that's exactly what you were, Erik, needs even more love. If a child has the impression that he or she is somewhat lacking in one regard or another, it is vital for the parents to provide emotional support to the child. You got none of this. All you got was rejection and disgust because of something you could not help. I cannot even begin to understand what you have suffered over the years, and I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive us for what we have put you through."

Erik looked at her hesitatingly. "You do not mind that I have done all these things? I have killed, Marie, and it was me who burned down the Opéra Populaire two years ago."

Marie shook her head. "No, Erik, don't torture yourself with such thoughts anymore. The man who did all these things died about two years ago, the moment Christine kissed you the night of the fire, did he not?" Erik's eyes widened in surprise. Marie had a point. He still got angry from time to time, but he had not killed nor done anything dishonorable since that moment. Christine's kisses had been an important turning point for him.

Marie smiled at him. "The real Erik is starting to come out after all," she said. "The warm-hearted, caring Erik that always has been there, deeply hidden, is finally taking over. You earn your money in a respectable way now as a composer, you live in a normal apartment with your friend, and you have been making plans to start a normal life."

Erik fought for words. He finally managed to say, "does that mean that you forgive me for all the crimes that I have committed, Marie?" Marie nodded. "Yes, Erik. They are my crimes just as much as yours, and what you did is not entirely your own fault. Hasn't Christine forgiven you as well? How could she ever trust you if she thought you were still that madman? What about your friends you mentioned, Antoinette and Nadir? If you have doubts about that, talk to Father Mansart. I am certain he will be thrilled to see you again. He is in Paris now, by the way, in his order's convent, since he is too old to act as a parish priest. I will give you the address." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Maybe you would like to ask him for his help in your current endeavor. It certainly cannot hurt to involve people you can trust in what you are planning right now."

Erik beamed at her. To share the tragedies of his life with the confidante of his childhood had done him some good. In a way it had helped him to deal with his disastrous past and her acceptance had told him that it was not too late to start anew. He also was very grateful for her idea to contact Father Mansart.

It was getting late and Erik wanted to get to the nearest inn where he could spend the night. Marie would not let him. "You can use the guest room, Erik," she said. "You need not confront the townspeople before you are introduced as Madeleine's son and heir. It will be easier for you then to be accepted by them. And you did not really think I would send my godson away, when I finally found him again after so many years?"

Erik gladly took her up on her offer. Even though he was getting very good at hiding his mask and at interacting with people as if he were a normal man, it still caused him some discomfort to actually go and talk to strangers, which he would have had to do, had he gone to an inn.

"Tomorrow morning, I will go with you to the town hall, and introduce you to the mayor," Marie promised. "He is the executor of your mother's will. I will help you claim your inheritance. He also keeps a letter for you, which your mother wrote shortly before her death. We will get that, too, and the keys to your house, so that you can get your documents. If you want to, you can also ask him about this legal affair you are considering. If you want to file the application with him, it can't hurt to give him time to read up on that special case and to get the necessary application forms. He is a good man," Marie added. "I am sure he will help you."

Xxxx

The next morning, the Mayor of Boscherville was informed by his clerk that Mlle. Marie Perrault was asking to see him. She was waiting outside with a tall young man, whom the clerk had never met before. Mlle. Perrault had said she and her companion had urgent business with the Mayor.

The Mayor could not imagine what could possibly be so urgent in his little town, but since it was a slow morning in the office and he was bored, he decided to see Marie and the stranger who was with her right away. A few moments later, his clerk showed Marie in. A tall, lean, elegant man in his mid-thirties entered together with her. The Mayor thought it was a bit odd that this man was keeping his hat on when entering an office, and was about to make a comment to that effect, when Marie started to speak.

"Good morning, Monsieur le Maire," she beamed. "A miracle has happened. Madeleine Chabrier was right after all, her son is still alive." She indicated the tall stranger at her side. "May I introduce my godson, M. Erik Chabrier."

The Mayor looked at her questioningly. Madeleine Chabrier had been rather well off, was it possible that an impostor was trying to get his hands on her estate? Erik noticed the Mayor's hesitation and took off his hat to reveal his mask. The latter gasped. Of course the mask was no proof that the part of the face it covered really was disfigured, but it showed at least that this stranger knew a few things about Madeleine Chabrier's son.

"Are you absolutely sure, Marie?" the Mayor asked her. "Unless I am mistaken you have not seen your godson since he left home more than two decades ago." Marie sensed that Erik was getting nervous and grasped his hand reassuringly. "Let me handle this, Erik," she whispered before turning to the Mayor again.

"Yes, Monsieur le Maire," she said. "I am absolutely sure. His resemblance with his late father would probably be enough to prove his identity. You do know the portrait of Charles in Madeleine's parlor, don't you?" The Mayor nodded, suddenly realizing the almost spooky similarities between that portrait and the uncovered part of the stranger's face. "But," Marie continued, "Erik showed me his face as well, and there is no doubt left. His face is so unique that his identity is established beyond any doubt."

"Are you ready to swear an oath on the Bible, Marie, that you recognize this man beyond any doubt to be your godson Erik Chabrier, son of the late Madeleine Chabrier and her equally deceased husband Charles?" The Mayor knew that Marie was a good Christian and went to church regularly. She would not swear unless she was a hundred percent certain. Marie nodded. "Yes, Monsieur le Maire."

The Mayor turned to Erik. "I guess your identity has been established then, M. Chabrier," he said. "Please don't get me wrong, when your mother drew up her will, I talked to her quite often. I do know why you are wearing that mask. I do not really have any doubts anymore, but…" he hesitated. "Would you terribly mind taking it off and showing me your face?" Erik panicked. This meeting was taking a turn he had not expected. Marie's hand on his arm and her soothing voice calmed him a bit. "It is okay, Erik," she murmured to him. "Monsieur le Maire was your mother's friend. He knows what to expect. He does not ask out of curiosity, but because it's even better evidence, if he has seen for himself. You can trust him." A look of resignation on his face, Erik steeled himself for the worst. He reached for the ties and removed his mask, ready to slip it right back on, should the man in front of him show disgust or fear at the sight of his terrible disfigurement.

The Mayor gasped for a moment. He had known that the late Mme. Chabrier's son had suffered from a facial disfigurement, but he had not expected it to be that bad. He gazed at the otherwise handsome young man with compassion. He was certain he could not even begin to understand what it must be like to go through life with a face like that.

"I am sorry, M. Chabrier," he said at last. "I had not right to ask you to take off your mask. I understand why you are wearing it. There is absolutely no doubt about your identity, and I will make sure that your mother's last will will be carried out immediately. I guess Marie has told you that she left everything to you, the house, her savings, her jewelry. I can give you the keys to the house immediately," he added. "In case you want to live here, you might want to have it renovated a bit or refurbished. As for the bank account, this will take a few days, you will need to fill out a few forms for that. Your mother's jewelry is in the bank safe as well," he added."

Marie interrupted the Mayor. "What about the letter?" she asked. "Madeleine did leave a letter for Erik. Where do you keep it? Erik would like to read his mother's last words to him." The Mayor nodded. "You are right, Marie, there is a letter as well. I do have that one here in the office. I will get you that as well." He went to a huge filing cabinet, opened several drawers and came back with

the items he had mentioned.

"Here is your letter, M. Chabrier," he told Erik. "And these are the keys to your mother's house, which is now yours." He laid both objects on the table in front of Erik. "These are the necessary forms to transfer your mother's bank account to you and to grant you access to the bank safe which holds her jewelry," the Mayor added and Erik filled out the forms and picked up the keys and the letter.

When Erik and Marie were about to leave, the Mayor addressed Marie again. "I suspect I can count on you on helping me inform the inhabitants of our little town that M. Chabrier has returned and to make sure that he is treated with due respect by everybody." Marie nodded smiling and Erik shook the friendly Mayor's hand warmly.

Xxxx

Erik and Marie went directly to the home where Erik had spent his disastrous childhood. He was a bit reluctant to face that place again, but the thought that he had a home of his own, far away from Paris and the nasty Comte, that he would be able to offer to Christine and Philippe a safe haven if Christine agreed to his plan, was slowly gaining the upper hand.

"You know what?" Marie said. "You go straight to the dining room, you know, where your parents' wedding picture is hanging above the sideboard. You sit down there, in front of that picture, so that your parents can look down on you, and then you read your mother's letter. In the meantime, I will have a look through the house and air the rooms a bit. When you are done with your letter, you can inspect your new home and decide what you want to be changed, so that your Christine and her son will feel at ease here, once your plans have succeeded."

Erik hugged her and went into the dining room. He did not remember the room well. He had not been allowed to eat here. Since the crude mask his mother had forced him to wear had made it almost impossible to eat while wearing it, his mother had banned him from the dining room. He looked over to the sideboard and to the picture hanging above. His father had been a tall and handsome man, and Erik could see that he did indeed resemble him a lot. The unharmed part of his face, that is, bore a great likeness to his father.

As to his mother… for the first time in over two decades he looked into that beautiful face again, those eyes that could have made him the happiest boy alive had they looked upon him with pride and love, but had condemned him to a life of misery and suffering by either avoiding him altogether or by looking at him in disgust. How pretty Madeleine looked in this picture, how warm her smile was! It was obvious that the woman in the picture was deeply in love with her newly-wed husband. Erik had never seen her smile. When he had been around her she always grimaced in disgust and tried to get him out of her presence as quickly as possible. How come she had apparently changed her mind about him in later years as Marie had said and as was obvious from the fact she had left everything to him, had even written him a letter so that she could speak to him one last time from beyond the grave?

Resolutely Erik opened the envelope and started reading his letter.

_My dear Erik, my beloved son,_

_I know you have all the reason in the world to doubt my words and my love for you. I have treated you beyond bad. I do not know what possessed me to punish you for something that was not your fault. In fact, it may have been my fault. When my dear Charles died so unexpectedly in this terrible accident I was only three months along in my pregnancy. I was in shock for days and did not take proper care of myself. I had loved your father so much. He had been the sunshine in my life and now he was gone. I had not only lost the love of my life, I was also faced with the prospect of having to raise my baby on my own. I was only twenty, Erik, this was all too much for me._

_As I said, Erik, losing your father hit me so hard that I neglected myself and in doing so I neglected the baby I was carrying – you. I do not know for sure, but I have learned in recent years that in doing so I may have inadvertently harmed you and brought upon you that curse which has poisoned your childhood and will probably haunt you for the rest of your life. Oh my poor boy, I hated and despised you for something which may have been my own fault! How can you ever forgive me how poorly I have treated you?_

_Yes, I had hoped my child would remind me of my husband and that I would have a living reminder of our love around me, but when I saw you for the first time all I could feel was that God had taken the last thing from me that might have held the possibility of bringing some happiness in my lonely life without my beloved Charles. I hated you for not living up to my expectations, and I was so afraid of what other people might say. I was ashamed of the ugly little monster I had given birth to._

_I never bothered to see the little boy behind your face, the child starving for love and affection. I was so lonely and yet I had a son who would have died for one good word from me. All I needed to do was reach out to you, but I never found the strength to do so. _

_When you were gone I felt relieved at first. I was finally free of the little monster. Then I felt like my dear Charles would not approve. His reproachful face haunted my sleep. I constantly felt like hearing him ask me: "Where is our son, Madeleine? What have you done to the token of our love I left you behind when I died?" I came very close to losing my mind._

_Marie saved me. She suggested I might help out in kindergarten, get to meet other children. I did that. And oh, Erik, imagine my surprise when I realized that not one child is perfect! Each and every single one has their shortcomings, not all of them as obvious as your face, but there nonetheless. I soon realized that my little "monster" had indeed been one of the brightest, most intelligent, but also most caring and loving little boys, and I had not appreciated his love because part of his face was not perfect!_

_Erik, you may not believe me, I certainly never gave you reason to think I loved you, but all these experiences slowly and inexorably made me open my heart to you - only it was too late. You had left me long ago. If only I could see you one more time! If only I could ask your forgiveness before I die. But my time is running out, and I fear I will have to die before being able to fulfill your fondest wish, to kiss your unique face, which now, that I truly see it with a mother's eyes, seems to me the most beautiful face in all the world, because it is that of my son._

_I hope God will forgive me for the sins I committed against you, because I had my punishment during life. If God is merciful and reunites me with my dear Charles, Erik, I promise you that both your parents will watch over you in love and that we will pray for you that your life that began so terribly and devoid of love and kindness will take a turn for the better. May you find a woman that is stronger and wiser than I was and who will be able to appreciate your caring nature and see beyond your face. May you find friends that value you for your talents and abilities and may you be able to lead a fulfilled life._

_Should you find it in your heart to forgive me for what I did to you, you would make me the happiest woman and proudest mother ever._

_I am kissing your beloved face, my son_

_Your mother Madeleine_

_The woman who threw away her greatest treasure because she did not understand its true value until she lost it_

Erik broke down sobbing once he had finished reading his mother's letter. He looked at his parents' picture and sighed. "Help me, mother, father. Please pray for me that this will work out, that I can make sure Christine will not lose her son. If I can get these two safely away from the old Comte, I will know that your love is truly with me and watching over me. I will be able to forgive you then."


	25. Preparations

Chapter 24 – Preparations

When Marie came back half an hour later, Erik was still fighting for his composure. She smiled inwardly. She had expected him to be deeply moved by his mother's letter, after all, she had always known that this "boy" was particularly sensitive.

She patted Erik on the shoulder. "Are you ready now to see the rest of the house?" she asked. "It seems to be in pretty good condition, although it has been uninhabited since your mother's death. Except for some repainting and maybe some new furniture, the house is ready for you." Erik nodded. After having read his mother's letter he felt welcome in these rooms for the first time in his life. To his surprise, he noticed that there were several rooms he had never seen before.

Erik lovingly glanced at the beautiful old piano in the living room. This was the same instrument on which he had made his first attempts at music. He could not resist going over and running his long slender fingers over the keys. Like the rest of the house the instrument seemed to be in rather good shape, if slightly out of tune. This would have to be one of the first things he'd have to take care of if he wanted to live here. No, he corrected himself. He would have to tune the piano before moving here.

Marie showed Erik the desk in which Madeleine kept all the family documents, and to his delight he found everything that he might need for his plan, neatly put together in a folder, which he took with him. He knew that these documents would allow him to lead a normal life. For the first time since he could remember he could actually prove his identity.

After having inspected the ground floor, Marie took Erik up and showed him the bedrooms. The first door she opened led to what seemed to be the master bedroom. Erik gazed at the room in wonder. The wall paper with the discreet floral design, the beautiful double bed with its fresh white linens, the dressing table in front of the huge mirror, the elegant combs and brushes on that table, the delicate white lace curtains in front of the windows – everything in this room spoke of a man's love for his wife and of his desire to make her as comfortable as possible.

Marie smiled. "Your father had this room furnished like that when he was engaged to your mother. It was his very special wedding gift to her. This is where they slept until Charles's death. Afterwards your mother could not bear the sight of this room anymore. She moved to one of the guest rooms. But what do you think? If everything goes as planned and you can bring your Christine here, will she be comfortable in this room?" Erik gazed around the room, his eyes shining. He apparently had also inherited his father's taste, since everything was exactly the way he would have done it if he had to decorate a room for the woman of his heart. He also noticed that the room was big enough to allow for little Philippe's bed being put there as well. "I think she would love this room," he whispered, in awe.

Marie then showed him the smaller bedroom, where his mother had slept after his father's death. "You were born here, Erik," she told him. He looked around the austere room. It spoke of loneliness and depression. Apparently his mother had wanted her room to look as empty and sad as she felt after having lost the love of her life. "This could be my room," Erik thought. "The slightly depressive atmosphere here matches the hopelessness of my love for Christine."

The next room Erik inspected was another smaller one. It was particularly bright and friendly, since its windows faced both east and south. It was also situated right next to the master bedroom. Erik smiled again. This would be the ideal room for Philippe once the boy grew a bit older.

After they finished their tour of the house, Erik turned to Marie. "This house will do nicely," he said. "I would have had to look for an apartment of my own, if…" he did not finish the sentence. "Of course a few minor things need to be touched up upon. If I put together a list of what I want to be done, would you see to it, Marie?" The elderly lady smiled at him. "Of course, Erik. I will make sure everything is ready, by the time you want to come and live here. Come now, I do not think you remember much of the garden, after all, the only times you were allowed to go there as a child was once it had become dark."

Erik followed her outside and looked around the little garden. There were flower beds, two or three big fruit trees which also provided ample shadow, and a grassy area where a little boy could play. Philippe would love this garden once he was a bit older.

Marie had been somewhat anxious about Erik's reaction to his old home, but the longer their inspection took the more she became convinced that Madeleine's letter had helped her son to put the past behind and to see this house from a different point of view: as a safe haven for the family he hoped to have soon.

Xxxx

Erik suddenly remembered that he had not discussed his plans with the Mayor yet. Since his train was not leaving anytime soon, he asked Marie if she thought it would be possible to talk to the town official once more. Marie nodded. The Mayor's office hours would only be over in about another hour. Therefore the two of them headed back to the town hall.

The Mayor was a bit surprised to see Marie and Erik return so soon, but he supposed that they might have some further questions regarding Erik's inheritance. He was very astonished when Erik asked him if he could count on the Mayor's support in a legal affair he was considering. Once the Mayor heard more details, he at first shook his head hesitatingly. It was no small thing to plot against a member of the nobility. He asked Erik for more details, which family was he talking about? Erik thought for a moment if it was wise to give away this bit of information, but he realized that if the Mayor decided to support him, he would learn the name in question sooner or later anyway. He nodded resolutely. "I won't be able to keep the details confidential indefinitely," he said, "and Marie said I can trust you. Our adversary in this case will be the Comte de Chagny."

It seemed like a miracle to Erik what kind of effect the sound of this name had on the Mayor. He shook his fists in anger and shouted "de Chagny! I take it this Comte is related to that scoundrel who was courting my friend's daughter in Rouen last spring, all gooey-eyed and lovesick! When he assaulted two of the maids, my friend chased him out of the house. It was then found out that he was head over heels in debt and had only courted poor Sophie because he desperately would have needed her dowry to cover his most urgent obligations."

Erik faced the Mayor: "Let me guess, mid- to late twenties, dark blonde hair, greenish eyes?" The Mayor nodded. "So you have met this poor excuse of a man as well? And he is related to the Comte, isn't he?" Erik was not really surprised to see his suspicion confirmed. It would have been a strange coincidence if somebody other than the wannabe-Vicomte had acted so shamelessly. "Théophile-Auguste de Chagny is the old Comte's nephew," he explained. "Though I think he is the son of the Comte's cousin rather than a brother's. But he is also the man who tried to get rid of his cousin Raoul's widow and her unborn child so that he could inherit the title and the family assets."

The Mayor held out his hand to Erik. "M. Chabrier, I am at your disposition. That family has brought enough pain and heartbreak to people we care about. I will help you fight this Comte and make sure the young lady and her son will be fine. Have you talked to her about your plan?" Erik shook his head. "Not yet, I had to make sure first I would be able to pull it off. As it was, there were a few problems I had to solve before I could talk to her. One of them was my lack of personal documents. I actually came here to see Marie to ask her if she could help me get a duplicate of my birth certificate." The Mayor laughed. "I guess you won't need that anymore since the original should be at your house." Erik showed him the folder. "Not anymore," he said. "This problem is solved."

"Well, and you have my support for whatever service you need," the Mayor grinned. He would love to help hurt this holier-than-thou de Chagny family. Erik hesitated. "You are aware, though, that my… the lady in question and her child will not be able to leave Paris before this is settled. Would you mind coming there to issue certain documents?" The Mayor thought about it for a few minutes. "Do you have planned ahead enough to have a specific date in mind?" he asked. Erik shook his head. "Not yet. There are a few more things I have to check and I have to talk to Christine, of course. I will probably know more in two or three days."

The Mayor considered his schedule for the next two weeks. Nothing important was expected to require his presence. "Give me a day or two of advance knowledge," he finally told Erik. "And I will be able to go to Paris for whatever formalities you want me to conduct. As the registrar official of your hometown, I am qualified to do so even if we are not here in Boscherville. There is a telegraph at the local post office, so it will be easy to send me a short note," the Mayor added.

Marie beamed. "Oh yes, Erik, please let us know! I think I could use this as an excuse to visit my dear Francine in Paris!" Erik was delighted at her enthusiasm and promised to contact her once he would have talked to Christine.

Xxxx

After their visit to the Mayor Erik had barely time to give Marie a list of the things he wanted changed or repaired in the house, before it was time for him to head to the train station. He arrived in Paris shortly after midnight. Nadir and Darius were already fast asleep, so Erik went to bed as well. He could not find sleep, though. Too much had happened these past two days.

The next morning, Nadir gave his young friend an inquisitive look. Erik seemed so… it was hard to describe, but the man behaved as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "So how did it go?" he asked curiously. "Did you manage to get that duplicate?" Erik gazed at him, radiant. "That and much, much more! Nadir, I own a house! A huge house, large enough for a family, with a small garden around. My mother left it to me together with a substantial amount of money and some jewelry. And imagine Nadir, she apparently did love me after all!"

Nadir was surprised. Erik had not told him much about his childhood, but one of the things he did know for sure was that Mme. Chabrier had forced her poor little boy to wear a mask because she found his face revolting. He could only begin to imagine what it might mean to Erik that she had apparently learned to care for her disfigured son after all and had left all her belongings to him.

"I am so happy for you, Erik," he said, sitting down at the breakfast table. "You must tell me everything. That you have a house now certainly takes care of another problem we had been facing," he added. Erik nodded. "It gets even better. The Mayor is going to help us. He will even come to Paris for all the formalities, if I can give him one or two days of advance knowledge. He hates the de Chagny family, because Théophile-Auguste courted his friend's daughter and while doing so assaulted two of their maids, trying to rape them. It turned out he only courted the girl because he wanted to get her dowry."

Nadir was impressed. This was getting better by the moment. The Mayor's support could prove invaluable to them. "Now all we need is Christine's consent," he said. "And, of course, once you have that, we need to find a trustworthy priest. Do you think we can ask somebody at St. Cécile where she sometimes hears mass on Sundays?"

Erik grinned. "I may have a solution for that as well," he said. "I have to go see somebody today."

Xxxx

Father Mansart had moved to his order's convent in Paris almost ten years ago, when it had become too strenuous for him to fulfill the day-to-day duties of a parish priest in Boscherville. As much as he enjoyed the more quiet routine at the convent, he did miss his work in the parish. He had known everybody, had accompanied many of them through the most important points of their lives, from their birth to their wedding, the births of their children, the deaths of dear ones and finally their own death. Now his days were pretty much all alike, nothing interrupted the quiet life at the convent. He very rarely had visitors. Marie Perrault stopped by every now and then. But other than her… he shook his head. He had not seen any other member of his former community since he had moved to Paris.

He was therefore surprised when he was informed that he had a visitor. "Who is it?" he asked the young novice who had told him to come down to the parlor. "I don't know," the latter said. "He's a rather young man, tall. He did not want to take his hat off, must be a bit of an irreverent one, but he said he is from Boscherville."

Father Mansart was excited now. One of his former community members was here to see him! Who could it be? It was good to know that he had not been completely forgotten by the people in Boscherville. He hurried to the parlor as quickly as his old feet could manage.

When he entered the room, the tall man, who had been waiting for him, took off his hat. Father Mansart only saw the man's left profile and recoiled in shock. "Charles!" he exclaimed, aghast. "Charles Chabrier!"

A sarcastic smile played across the corners of the young man's mouth. "As I had to tell Marie Perrault two days ago, I am not Charles. And unlike him, I am still very much alive." He turned so that Father Mansart could see his mask. "I am Erik, Father Mansart. Erik Chabrier, Charles's son, your former student."

The old priest fell into a chair. "Erik," he whispered. "Can it be? Is it really you?" Erik nodded. "If you absolutely must see it to believe me, I will show you my face, but I'd rather not." Father Mansart held out his hand to Erik. "Why ever not, Erik? I have seen your face often enough. And a face is a face, there is no need to be ashamed of yours," he said to his former star pupil. "God loves the faces of all his children."

Erik winced. "I am not sure God still wants anything to do with me after some of the things I did," he said. "But that's not really the reason for my visit." Father Mansart looked him deep in the eyes. "Really, Erik?" he asked after a while. "There may be another reason for your visit, but I can see that your past troubles you," he said quietly and continued to look at Erik as if he could see right through him and to the bottom of his soul.

Erik finally relented. He took off his mask and showed his deformed right cheek and temple to the priest. Father Mansart smiled at him. "That's better, Erik. You need to learn to accept yourself. I see that you still have problems in that regard, though, given your childhood that's not really a surprise." The wrinkled hand reached out to caress Erik's face.

"And now you tell your old teacher what troubles you," Father Mansart said softly. Once again the dam within Erik broke and all his sufferings but also all his crimes poured out of the tortured young man. "Marie said, it's not all my fault and that she and my mother and all of Boscherville are to blame as well," Erik finished. "But that's too easy."

Father Mansart looked at him questioningly. He only now realized that Erik had mentioned his godmother. "You have seen Marie?" he asked. Erik nodded. "I was in Boscherville the last two days. She gave me your address. That's how I knew how to find you."

The old priest faced Erik again. "Marie is a wise woman," he said. "She was right, you are only partially to blame for your past. The larger blame lies with all of us who did not try hard enough to nurture your heart and soul. No Erik, don't interrupt me," he continued. "I can see that you don't take your past lightly and that it will haunt you, maybe till the end of your days. But I can also see that this is the past. You are not this person any longer. You have found yourself again." Erik was amazed. Marie had said pretty much the same.

Father Mansart continued to scrutinize Erik's face. Finally he spoke again. "Let me guess, Erik. I think the real purpose of your visit was to tell me that you have found the person that is able to nurture your heart and your soul, the one who will give you the emotional support that we all failed to give you during your childhood. You came to your old teacher to ask me if I would marry you."

Erik fought for words. "If she will have me," he finally whispered. Father Mansart smiled. "Once you have talked to her, let me know when and where. I will be happy to do this for you, my son."

Erik startled. Where? He had not thought about that yet. Christine was not allowed to roam the town freely. She might be allowed to go to mass, but there would not be enough privacy and the old Comte would hear about it immediately. Where else had Christine been able to go recently? A few shops, a charity bazaar… suddenly it hit him. "The cemetery," he said. "Father Mansart, would it be possible for you to marry us in the small chapel at the cemetery?"

The priest stared at him in surprise. "It is certainly unusual," he said after a while, "but not impossible. Why would you want to get married there, Erik?" Erik shook his head. "There are certain reasons why we would have to keep this secret for a few weeks," he finally explained. "Since my… she visits her father's tomb fairly often. She could go there without arousing suspicion. And I think it would also give us both a feeling as if her father were there to give us his blessings."

Father Mansart seemed satisfied. "Those are valid reasons," he agreed. "Now Erik, go and propose to your bride. Once she has agreed, talk to the administrator of the cemetery to find out a day in the near future when the chapel will not be needed for funerals and then let me know. I am looking forward to meeting your intended, Erik. I am sure she is a very warm and caring person. I only have to look at you, at your brightly shining eyes, to know that you love her with all your heart."


	26. Proposal

Chapter 25 – Proposal

Christine was getting nervous. Her Angel had told her he needed to check a few things in order to help her fight the old Comte and make it possible for her to keep her son, but Erik had also estimated that it might take him about a week to do so. A week had passed already, though, and she had not heard back from him yet. Apparently things were much more complicated than he had thought, if he needed that much time for his inquiries. Of course he had reassured her that he would protect her and Philippe and as a worst case scenario he had offered to help her escape from the de Chagny-family together with Philippe and to hide them somewhere abroad.

Christine sighed. That really could only be a last resort. If they had to leave France she would never really feel safe. The Comte was a powerful man, he probably had friends everywhere that would inform him of her and Philippe's whereabouts, or if he didn't, he would send out spies to hunt her down. They would constantly be on the run – or at least always ready to leave at a moment's notice. What kind of life would that be? Of course she would be able to keep her son that way, and Erik would go with them, so she would not be completely on her own. But she could not expect Mme. Giry and Meg or even Nadir and Darius to share such a life. They would have to leave their friends behind, might not even be able to stay in touch with them, since the old Comte would probably have these under constant surveillance in order to get a hint where Christine and his grandson had gone.

How would such a life affect Philippe? Right now he was content with whatever attention he got from her. He liked Erik as well, and for the time being the boy might be fine with the two of them. Once he grew a bit older, though, he would need friends his own age and he would have to go to school. But would contact with neighbors, new friendships and her son's interaction with teachers and class-mates not allow the Comte to find them sooner or later, even if they assumed false identities and changed their names?

Another problem was money. Christine had some savings from her time at the Opéra Populaire and she knew that Erik was currently earning a lot with his compositions. The volume of songs was selling extremely well and the recently published sonatas for piano had got rave reviews by musicians and amateurs alike. A second volume of songs was in the works as well as some pieces for violin. But if they had to leave France, Erik would probably not be able to stay in contact with the publishers any more than they would be able to keep in touch with their friends. Thus, they would not have a source of income any longer.

The more Christine thought about it the less she liked this solution. She wanted a comfortable home for herself and Philippe, the chance for her son to grow up in a loving environment and to be a child like any other. She wanted him to be able to go play with friends outdoors without her having to worry that the Comte's spies would abduct him the moment she turned her back, she wanted him to be able to trust people and make friends, not to fear that every new person he met might be working for his grandfather and only be looking for a chance to separate him from his mother. She wanted Philippe to grow up without fear. How could this ever happen if she had to leave the country in order to keep her son?

But was there really an alternative? Would it be possible for her and Philippe to get away from her father-in-law and live in peace? Her Angel had thought there might be a way, but he had not known for sure. She was anxiously waiting for news from Erik, but the week he had thought it would take him to gather the information he needed had passed and he had not returned yet to tell her about his plan. What was taking him so long? Had he encountered difficulties that he had not anticipated? Had he learned that his plan would not work and was desperately trying to come up with something else?

Erik had told her not to worry, he would not allow the Comte to take her son away from her, and Christine had endless faith in Erik. But even he had mentioned the possibility of having to abduct her and Philippe as a worst case scenario. Erik's long absence now seemed to confirm her fears. What if his investigations resulted in the knowledge that there really was only one way for them: escape?

Christine smiled. As much as she hated the idea of running from the Comte, should this really be her only option, she knew exactly what she would do. She would take her son, lay her hand trustingly in her Angel's hand and follow him wherever he would lead her. If nothing else, at least the three of them would be together.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was getting concerned as well. She had hoped that Erik would find a way to help Christine – for all their sakes. Christine and Philippe needed each other, herself and Meg wanted a place in Christine's life, which she knew they would not have if Christine had to leave the country. Her worst fear, though, was that the obvious budding love between Christine and Erik would suffer if Erik could not provide a solution for Christine other than escape from the Comte's sphere of influence. Mme. Giry cared a lot for both her protégés and after observing the two for several months now she had reached the conclusion that they needed each other. Christine needed Erik's support, guidance and protection in order to thrive and Erik needed Christine's love and calming influence to fight his inner demons. If Erik somehow found a way to keep Philippe with Christine, Mme. Giry had no doubt that these two and the little Vicomte would end up a very happy family. If not.. Mme. Giry did not even want to think about the consequences for all three of them.

While neither Mme. Giry nor Christine had any doubts that sooner or later Erik would tell them the results of his inquiries, the longer he stayed away, the more they both began to fear that he would have bad news.

Xxxx

On his way to the de Chagny-mansion, Erik could not remember the last time he had been as anxious as he felt that very moment. The previous day, after having visited Father Mansart he had gone to the cemetery to check on which days in the immediate future the chapel would be free. He had only told the administrator that he might need it for a private religious function and that he would bring his own priest. To his relief he had learned that the chapel would be free the coming Monday – three days from now. This would leave him with enough time to inform Marie, the Mayor and Father Mansart, if… Erik sighed. That was the major point he still needed to resolve: if Christine agreed to his plan. He knew that the only way this could work – the only way he could even legally file the application he had in mind – was for Christine to marry him.

Erik felt cold sweat run down his back at the mere thought how Christine might react to his proposal. Even though he would reassure her that he would keep it a marriage "in name only" and would not even think about asking for a husband's rights, he was not sure she would want to marry him. Would she not remember the past, how he had tried every trick he knew to get her to stay with him as his wife? Would she not think that he was reverting to his old self and using her desperate situation for his own purposes? Would she believe him if he told her he wanted nothing for himself but her friendship and trust and the right to provide for her and Philippe, to keep them safe?

The closer he got to his destination, the more nervous he got. What should he do if Christine refused? Should he try to convince her, since it would be better for her and Philippe if they could live in Boscherville than if they had to run? Or should he accept her decision and discuss details of their flight? Erik suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. What if Christine did not trust him anymore after he asked her to marry him? What if she did not feel safe with him anymore, if she did not want to allow him to help her escape, what if she feared he was only trying to finally get her into his grasp?

The result would be disastrous. In that case he would not be able to help her at all. Christine would lose Philippe, Philippe would lose his mother and Erik would lose Christine's friendship. He shivered when he thought of the enormity of the risk he was taking by asking Christine to marry him. He came very close to forget about the whole plan and to tell Christine they had to leave as soon as possible.

No. Erik knew he could not do that. He could not deny Christine the chance at a peaceful life with her son. No matter what the consequences for their friendship, he had to at least give her a choice. If she accepted his proposal, all would be well, if not, there was still time to fret and come up with a plan B, because one thing he knew for sure: whatever the outcome, even if Christine lost all trust in him, he would not desert her. He loved her too much. He would always be there and protect her, if only from afar.

Still deep in thought Erik finally reached the de Chagny-mansion and entered the garden. He made his way to the group of trees where his previous meetings with Christine had taken place. He did not have to wait long. Christine was promenading in the garden and slowly approaching that particular corner.

As soon as Christine was close enough, Erik stepped out of the shadow so that she could see him. A warm smile lit up her pale features and she threw herself into Erik's arms. "Oh Angel," she sobbed. "It's been so long. I was getting so nervous. Did you encounter problems? Will your plan not work?" She looked up at him, trustingly, nervous tears in her eyes.

Once he saw Christine's anxiety, Erik suddenly became calm. Whatever his fears, she needed him. He had to be strong for her. "I am sorry, Christine, that my delay has been so disturbing for you and made you fear the worst," he tried to soothe her. "In fact, my plan will work." He hesitated for a moment. "Will you trust me, no matter what I tell you?" he asked uneasily. Christine smiled at him. She nodded enthusiastically. "Always, Angel," she murmured.

Her obvious trust reassured Erik. "Please hear me out, before you voice an objection," he began. "I know there is one point about this that you may not be happy about." Christine smiled at him. He had a plan how she could keep her son! She did not really care what it was, she would agree to anything. She knew he always had her best interest at heart.

"If you remarried," Erik began a bit uneasily. The look of utter terror on her face made him pull her close. "Do not worry, Christine. I have a solution around this as well, just let me explain this to you." Christine nodded, trying to be brave and Erik continued. "If you remarried, your new husband could adopt Philippe. Adoption law is very complex and there are many special cases listed, but I have learned that it is possible that with the surviving parent's consent – yours - an adoptive parent – such as your new husband would be – may file for custody. He may also invoke the following clause: he must agree to pay for all the child's expenses such as food, clothes, education and he must treat the adopted child like a biological one in his will, under the condition that he gets full custody. The child would not lose any rights in his biological family, but will gain the same rights in the adoptive parent's family. That means, in addition to being the Vicomte de Chagny, Philippe would also be his adoptive father's heir. If the adoptive parent is financially able to support the child in this way custody will be granted. This clause also means that should anybody else – like the child's blood-relatives, in your case the Comte and his family – want to take custody away from the remaining biological parent and the adoptive parent – you and your new husband – they would have to take the matter to court. In doing so they would forfeit the child's rights to inherit from the adoptive parent, thus effectively rob the child of part of his inheritance. And it would cause a scandal," Erik concluded.

Christine stared at him, uncomprehendingly. "I know the Comte would do anything to avoid a scandal," she finally said. "But I only understand about half of the legal stuff you just explained to me. I do get it though, that I would need a husband willing to pay for Philippe all by himself, without any child-support from the de Chagnys, and who would be rich enough that it might look bad for the Comte if he tried to get custody, since that way Philippe would lose a lot of money. Is that what you were trying to tell me?" Erik nodded. "Yes, that's the simplified version."

"But Angel, I do not want to get married again," Christine exclaimed in panic. The mere thought at what would await her in the bedroom should she choose to marry again, made her feel queasy. "And even if I did, where would I find somebody willing to do all this for me and Philippe, and he would have to be influential enough that taking him to court over a dispute of custody could cause a scandal for the Comte?"

Erik knew this was the decisive moment. He would now have to offer her himself for a husband. "I know that you do not want to remarry," he began cautiously. "But would you also have a problem with it if it were a marriage in name only?" Christine gasped. "In name only? What do you mean, Erik?" Erik blushed. This conversation was getting a bit embarrassing. "I mean, if you had your own bedroom," he stammered. "Your husband would not ask you to grant him his rights as a husband over your … body." The last word was barely audible and Erik was really uncomfortable now discussing a couple's carnal relationship – or lack thereof – with Christine.

Christine was still at a loss how this could help her. "Where do I find such a person?" she asked Erik. "It would be hard enough to find somebody who'd want to pay for Philippe and make him his heir without …" she blushed just as deeply as Erik had just a few moments ago.

Erik did not seem to pay attention to her valid objection. "Only your husband can file for adoption and custody as I have described," he continued unfazed. "So the wedding has to take place first. It takes about three to four weeks for adoption and custody claims to get settled. During this time you and Philippe will have to stay here, your new marriage will have to remain a secret until everything else has been approved, so that your husband can take you both away." Christine shook her head. She was hearing his words, but she did not quite grasp their meaning. What was this nonsense about her marrying somebody who would not want to do certain embarrassing, humiliating things to her? Even if somebody promised not to ask that of her, how could she trust that person?

Erik's next words suddenly got her full attention. "We would therefore have to get married as soon as possible," he uttered, nervously. There. He had finally said it. He had actually had the guts to tell her he would marry her – if she wanted him. He gazed at Christine, steeling himself for rejection. No matter how much sense this made, how could he expect that she would want to have a freak like himself around for the rest of her life?

Christine suddenly understood. Erik. Her Angel. He was willing to do this for her. She beamed at him, her eyes shining with pure joy. "You?" she whispered. "You would marry me and adopt Philippe?" Erik nodded, relieved. She seemed to take his proposal quite well. "If you will have me," he said hesitantly. "I assure you that I will not ask anything untoward of you. Everything will remain the same between us. Nobody will know anyway." Erik was not sure he was entirely coherent. He was overwhelmed by Christine's enthusiastic reaction to his proposal.

"Would it mean that you would be like Philippe's father?" Christine asked him. "It has always made me so sad that he does not have a father, but with you…" she smiled at Erik. Erik smiled back. "Yes, that's what it would mean. And I would love to have Philippe as my son," he assured her. Christine nodded. "And could we all three live together?" she asked. This would be wonderful! She and Philippe could be with Erik all the time! They could sing together and have their meals together and just see each other all the time. "Of course," Erik said calmly. "In fact, we would have to live together, in order to make people believe that we are really married." He blushed again. Christine felt in heaven. She would be with her Angel and nobody would be able to separate them ever again!

Another thought occurred to her. "But where, Erik? We cannot all live at Nadir's place, or can we?" Erik smiled at her. "I just found out that I own a house," he said. "Since I needed my documents for all the formalities I went home to Boscherville." Christine vaguely remembered that he had mentioned this place during their train ride to Paris last summer. "I went to see my godmother to ask her to help me get a duplicate of my birth certificate, and she told me that my mother had left me her house, a substantial amount of money and her jewelry. I will be more than able to provide for you and Philippe, especially since my compositions are selling so well. The house only needs minor repair," he continued, "it will be ready by the time all the formalities are in order and I can take the two of you home with me. Marie is seeing to it that all will be ready to welcome you." Another memory resurfaced in Christine's mind. "Marie… your mother's friend?" she asked. Erik nodded. "She is my godmother. She knows everything." He hesitated. "About me. About the past. About this plan. I told her everything. She still loves me despite … you know."

Christine grasped his hand and squeezed it. "I am sure she knows how warm and caring you really are. The person who did all these things two years ago, that was not really you. The real Erik, my dear Angel, is the most generous person and the best friend I could wish for." She hugged him close and leaned against his chest. How wonderful it would be to live in the same house with him, to be able to find comfort in his strong arms whenever she needed it. "When and where can we get married, Angel?" she asked.


	27. Wedding

Chapter 26 – Wedding

When Christine returned to her room a while later, she was radiant, her eyes shining brightly, her whole face aglow with joy. And she was humming. Mme. Giry knew at once that the problem must have been solved one way or another. Christine had not looked that happy in a very long time.

The moment Christine saw her surrogate mother she hugged her, then immediately asked for Meg. "She is playing with Philippe in the nursery," Mme. Giry explained. "Oh, let's get them both," Christine answered, slightly out of breath. "I have such wonderful news to share with you!" A few minutes later, the three ladies were sitting in Christine's room, Christine holding her son in her lap.

"On Monday, we will go to the cemetery," Christine began to explain. "The Comte has never had any objections to my visits there, so we will be able to go there unhindered. I want you both to come with me, and we will take Philippe." Mme. Giry and Meg nodded. This was not unusual. Christine regularly visited her father's grave and never failed to stop by at Raoul's grave as well. Certainly the Comte could have no problems with Philippe being taken to the tombs of his father and maternal grandfather. But why would they go there? Would they meet Erik there and he would take Christine and Philippe with him, to a safe hiding place somewhere abroad?

"We will go to the cemetery chapel," Christie continued. "Erik will be waiting there. He will bring Nadir and Darius, and his godmother and the Mayor from Boscherville, which is Erik's hometown." Mother and daughter Giry stared at Christine, surprised. What would all these people be doing at the chapel? "And Erik will also bring the priest who married his parents and baptized him when he was a baby," Christine added. "This priest will marry us." Christine blushed like any bride discussing her upcoming wedding.

Mme. Giry and Meg were speechless. They both knew that Christine and Erik were in love, but they had not expected a wedding anytime soon. Of course the Comte wanted Christine to remarry and Erik was the logical choice. They failed to see, though, how this marriage would help Christine keep her son. "Congratulations, Christine," Mme. Giry finally managed to say. "I am happy for you and Erik. This certainly solves part of your problem. But what about Philippe?"

Christine beamed. "Once we are married, Erik will adopt Philippe in a certain way which will allow him to get custody, since he is willing to pay for the child's expenses and make Philippe his heir. If the Comte has a problem with this and wants custody himself, he will have to take this to court, and in doing so, he would forfeit Philippe's right to be Erik's heir. He would also cause a scandal, since Erik is not a nobody but the well-known new composer à la mode, and Erik is also fairly rich, since he is not only making a lot of money with his music, he also inherited his mother's money and her house and jewelry, so the Comte would be a bad relative if he caused Philippe to lose his chance of being Erik's heir. If he tried this it would be all over the news and he won't like headlines like 'Comte sues famous composer for custody, thus robbing his grandson of a substantial inheritance'. It's complicated and I do not quite understand it, but Erik assures me this will work. We just have to keep our marriage a secret until all the formalities are in order and Erik is officially Philippe's adoptive father and has custody. Then he will come and claim the two of us."

Meg hugged her friend. "This is such wonderful news!" she exclaimed. "Where are you and Erik going to live, and why did he never tell us about his hometown and his friends there?" Christine quickly told them everything she had learned from Erik: how he and Nadir had been reading up on family law, how Erik needed to have his documents in order so that he could legally adopt Philippe, how he had gone home to ask his godmother to help him get duplicates issued and while there had learned that he was his mother's heir, how the Mayor had agreed to handle not just the civil marriage but also the adoption and custody claim because he had an ax to grind with the de Chagnys and how Erik had met his old parish priest and teacher who had agreed to marry him and Christine.

"And we are doing it at the cemetery," Christine finished, "because I can go there without arousing the Comte's suspicion. Erik also said, that there we'll be as close to my dear papa as possible, for his blessing." Mme. Giry smiled. She was aware that this sudden wedding smelled a bit of marriage of convenience, but she also knew how deeply Erik loved Christine, and the latter's radiant face was proof enough to the older woman that Christine was overjoyed at the prospect of marrying Erik.

"You certainly have my blessing as well," she told Christine. "This is a fantastic solution. I know that Erik will be a fabulous father to Philippe." Christine nodded. "Philippe and I will be able to live with Erik," she said happily. "We will be able to see him every day. It will be wonderful!"

Xxxx

On Sunday evening, the Mayor of Boscherville and Marie Perrault arrived in Paris with the same late train that Erik had taken a few days earlier. Erik met them at the train station and led them to a nearby inn, where they would stay overnight. Even though Marie was planning to combine her attendance of Erik's wedding with a visit to her niece Francine, she could not show up at Francine's place that late and would be going there the next day, after the wedding.

The next morning, Nadir once again rented a carriage, and put his own horse and César in front. Nadir acted as the coachman, with Darius sitting next to him. Erik was riding in the carriage. They first stopped at the inn to pick up the Mayor and Marie, then they went to the convent to pick up Father Mansart, who was delighted to see that Marie was attending her godson's wedding. The group proceeded to the cemetery's back entrance, so that their carriage would not be seen by the driver of the de Chagny-carriage in which Christine and the Girys would arrive approximately half an hour later.

While Father Mansart was putting on his chasuble, the Mayor prepared the necessary documents, not just the marriage certificate but also the forms to file for adoption and custody. Erik was pacing nervously, three red roses in his hands, each of them neatly tied with a black ribbon.

At the agreed upon time, Christine and her two companions arrived. Mme. Giry carried Philippe. She and Meg immediately went to the front and took a seat next to Marie. Christine slowly walked down the aisle towards Erik, who was waiting for her in front of the altar. Since they had not wanted to arouse the Comte's suspicion, she was wearing her customary black dress, the mourning for her first husband, Raoul. But her eyes were shining bright and seeking her groom.

Once she had reached Erik, he handed her the three roses. "You need a bridal bouquet," he whispered. "The three roses are a symbol of our new family of three, you, me and Philippe." Christine smiled at him, and her left hand shyly reaching for his for reassurance. Erik squeezed her hand, giving her a look so full of love that everybody in the little chapel was moved by the young couple's obvious display of affection. Not one person present had the slightest doubt that these two were deeply in love with each other.

Father Mansart addressed Christine. "My daughter, you are here to tie the knot with your fiancé Erik Chabrier. Before I can marry the two of you, I must ask you though, if you have seen Erik's face without his mask? He assures me that you have, but I need to hear it from you as well, before I can proceed." Christine nodded, smiling. "Yes, Father," she said. "I have seen it and it does not bother me. For all I care Erik could take off his mask right now." She gazed at her Angel. "But I suspect it would make him uncomfortable." She looked around. "I do think, though, that everybody present does know what Erik looks like and that we all love him anyway."

Marie had to fight back tears. She had not met Christine before, had only seen the picture that Erik had shown her, but she was very much impressed by the way how Christine handled Erik, giving him the feeling that nobody in the little chapel had a problem with his face. "Oh Madeleine," she thought, "the boy is in good hands. He has finally found the one that can look beyond his face and see the warm, caring man behind it. She will be good for him. And the way they are looking at each other… oh my God, Madeleine, I think not even you and your Charles were that much in love!"

Erik looked at Christine. She had not said so explicitly, but he had the feeling, she wanted him to take off his mask for this important ceremony. Even though this was a marriage in name only, they would live together from now on and form a family together with Philippe. Their relationship was a deep and trusting one, and in a way they would mean every bit of the vows they were going to exchange – even though they would not consummate their marriage.

He gingerly reached for the ties and took off his mask. Christine smiled at him brightly. Father Mansart seemed pleased as well. Just like Marie he thought that Erik had chosen wisely, that this young, childlike widow would be able to provide his former student with the emotional support the disfigured man so much needed.

Father Mansart then began with the ritual. He had the young couple repeat the vows he read to them, he blessed the rings that Erik had purchased, and that the young couple put on each other's hands, and he finally joined their hands. Then he smiled at Erik. "You may kiss your bride now, my son," he said. Erik looked at Christine and both blushed a deep crimson red. They had not thought about this part of the wedding ritual. Erik wanted nothing more than to kiss his wife, but he had promised Christine not to touch her. How would she react to a kiss? Everybody was looking at them now. It was obvious that they were expecting him to kiss Christine.

Christine, on the other hand, suddenly remembered the night of "Don Juan Triumphant" two years ago. The night she had kissed Erik. Of course it had been totally inappropriate for her to initiate the kiss, but… it had somehow felt right. She could not help the feeling that she would greatly enjoy it if Erik kissed her now. Memories of his lips on hers, their tongues meeting, made her wish to experience that sensation again.

Erik hesitated, but when he saw Christine looking at him expectantly, almost invitingly, he briefly touched her lips with his. The two broke away immediately, both breathing heavily. As short as the kiss had been, both their lips were burning, as if hit by an electric shock. The assembled wedding guests smiled. It seemed as if the new couple was embarrassed by their presence. Apparently they would have preferred some privacy for their kiss. "And it will be weeks before they can truly be together," the Mayor thought, feeling sorry for the newly-weds who would have to wait such a long time for their wedding night and honeymoon.

The kiss concluded the ceremony. The Mayor then approached Christine with the forms he had prepared, showing her where she had to sign, in order to approve of her new husband's application to adopt her son and file for custody of the child. Christine remembered just in time that her name was now officially Christine Chabrier. She felt very proud when she wrote this name under the documents that would allow her to keep her son and to form a new family with him and her Angel.

Erik used this time to pick up his adoptive son-to-be, and everybody could see how happily the infant reacted to his new father's embrace and that he showed no fear whatsoever of Erik's unmasked face. Marie smiled at him. "Erik, your new family is adorable," she told her godson. "I am so glad you have them and I am looking forward to you bringing them home to Boscherville in a few weeks." Erik nodded. He was too moved to talk.

Once Christine had finished her business with the Mayor, Mme. Giry urged her to leave. They would have to hurry if they wanted to stop by at the graves of Gustave Daaé and Raoul on their way out. Their coachman was probably getting nervous already. Reluctantly Christine took her son from Erik's arms. She did not want to leave her Angel just yet. Erik reached into his pocket and produced a long, thin silver chain. "You will not be able to wear your new wedding ring in the Comte's presence just yet, Christine," he said. "But with this chain you can wear it around your neck, hidden underneath your clothes."

Christine smiled. Her Angel had really thought of everything! She quickly put the ring around her neck, then looked at her three roses. "I cannot take these home with me either," she said sadly. "I will leave them at my father's grave. I will tell him about – us. I think he will approve."

She then thanked everybody for having been there for her and Erik's wedding and for their support. The Mayor once again assured her that her case was in the best hands and that in three weeks, four at the maximum, all would be settled to her full satisfaction. "You will soon be able to come home, Mme. Chabrier," he told her. Christine smiled. She liked her new name. Then she and her two companions left with Philippe for her father's grave.

Xxxx

When visiting her father's grave, Christine usually told him everything that had made her happy or had caused her problems since the last time she had been there. This time her visit was very short. "Oh papa," she whispered, laying down the three red roses. "I wish you could have been there with me today, giving me away! I married my Angel today, you know, the one you promised to send me? Of course he is not really an angel, but he is the best friend I could imagine or wish for, and he is going to help me against the Comte, so that I can keep Philippe with me. I am sorry the two of you never met. I know you would have liked him, papa. I would have brought him here with me, but we have to keep it secret for the time being. Once everything is official, we will both come with Philippe, so that you can give us your blessing."

She then went on to the de Chagny crypt, where her first husband lay buried. Her visit there was longer. She had a confession to make. "Oh Raoul," she told her dead husband, "I know you and Erik had your differences. I am not sure you approve of me marrying him, but it is for the best of our son. You would not want Philippe to be separated from his mother, would you? And you would want Philippe to be able to be a happy child, able to play in the sunshine, to laugh and have fun, like we did all those years ago, when I lost my scarf and you ran into the sea to fetch it for me. You want that kind of freedom for our son, don't you? Erik will be able to ensure he can grow up like that, unhindered by social etiquette and stiff aristocratic rules that your father would force him to follow. That I am now married to Erik and that Erik will soon be Philippe's adoptive father will not mean, though, that Erik will take your place in Philippe's life. I will make sure our boy knows about you and about the happy time we had together. I do not think I will tell him about our problems towards the end of our marriage. That's between you and me. I want Philippe to be able to love you and to feel sorry that he never knew you. But Erik will teach him all the things a father normally teaches a son, those things that you would have taught him, were you still alive, like swimming and riding or even carving wood, things that a mother can never pass on to a son. Philippe needs somebody like this in his life. I would have had to find a male role-model for him sooner or later anyway. I might not have married that person. I am not even sure I would have married Erik, if your father had not practically forced me to marry again. But I am kind of glad I am married to him now. I think I will enjoy living with Erik. I hope you will not mind that I took the hand which offered me and our son a safe haven. Please, Raoul, wherever you are now, be happy for me and Philippe that we have found somebody to take care of us."

When she had finished, she had tears in her eyes. She was not entirely convinced that Raoul would agree with her reasoning, but she hoped that he would not mind that she had fought for the right to raise their son herself. She then turned around, Philippe on her arm, and walked towards the exit where the carriage was waiting for them – and towards her new life as Mme. Chabrier.


	28. Emotions

Chapter 27 – Emotions

After Christine had left with Philippe and the Girys, Erik and the Mayor quickly worked their way through the application forms for the adoption and the custody claim, then Father Mansart and the Mayor issued the marriage certificate – in duplicate, since they suspected that the Comte might keep one copy once Erik would come to claim his wife and adoptive son. Once these formalities were done, Nadir once again acted as the coachman and brought everybody to their next destination, the Mayor to the train station, Marie to her niece Francine's home and Father Mansart back to the convent, before heading home.

Erik was in a very strange mood. He was glad that Christine had accepted his proposal and that the first step of their plan had been completed successfully. He was also full of anticipation how wonderful it would be to have Christine and the boy with him all the time. On the other hand he was nervous about the next step. The adoption and custody claim would take a few weeks to be settled. Even though they had taken every possible precaution there was still a chance – slim as it might be – that the Comte would learn about it and file an appeal before the adoption and custody became final. Three to four weeks suddenly seemed like an endlessly long period to Erik, especially with an adversary as powerful and as well-connected as the old Comte.

And then there was Christine. Even dressed in black as she had been at their wedding, Erik could not help but find her the most beautiful and most desirable woman in the world. The short moment when his lips had touched hers had made him realize how hard it would be for him to keep his promise not to touch her, once they would be living in the same house together. His whole body had ached with longing for her, to pull her close, to kiss her, to feel her curves against his body, to really become one with her. It dawned on him that keeping his promise might be harder than he had expected.

Nadir noticed that his newly-wed friend was in a rather somber mood. "Don't worry, Erik," he tried to comfort him. "In a few weeks all will be settled and you will be able to take her and the boy with you to Boscherville, where she will be able to forget the poor treatment she has received from her first husband's family. I know the wait will seem long to you, but if you ask me, the worst is over. The Mayor will make sure things get settled without the Comte getting wind of our plan and once you are officially Philippe's adoptive father nobody will be able to take the child away from you and Christine. Everything will be fine then." Erik nodded, not quite convinced. Of course everything would be fine for Christine, once she and her son were safely away from the Comte, but what about him? How would he be able to keep his distance from her once they would be living together?

Nadir looked at Erik quizzically. Something was wrong with his friend. Why was he not happy about the fact that his Christine was finally his wife? The woman quite obviously loved Erik. Her whole behavior at the chapel today had shown nothing but love for her groom. The kiss had been a bit awkward, though, but then, weren't most kisses at weddings a bit hasty? Suddenly Nadir remembered something Erik had said to him the day he had learned about the Comte's plans to separate Christine from the little Vicomte.

"Erik," he asked nervously, "you did not really tell her the nonsense about keeping this a marriage in name only, when you proposed to her, or did you?" Erik sighed. "Of course, I did. How else would I have got her to accept? She was adamant that she did not want to remarry. You should have seen the horror on her face when I mentioned her need for a husband who could adopt Philippe. Apparently she still loves that sorry excuse of a husband who left her alone and at the mercy of the likes of the old Comte and Théophile-Auguste when she was pregnant and would have needed him most. She wants to remain faithful, it seems."

Nadir's heart went out to Erik at the pained expression in his friend's eyes. Then he shook his head. Not for one second did he believe that Christine's heart belonged to her dead husband forever and always. Her eyes and her whole body language during the wedding had clearly demonstrated that she belonged to Erik, heart, body and soul. Watching the couple exchange their vows in front of the altar that very morning, Nadir had had no doubt that all misunderstandings between the two had been resolved and that they were not just getting married out of necessity but out of love. Apparently he had been mistaken and some problems still remained.

"I do not know, why she would not want to remarry," Nadir finally said, patting Erik on the shoulder, "but I do not think it is because she wants to remain faithful to Philippe's father. There must be some other reason, Erik," he continued. "If only we knew what it is. But I certainly could see this morning that she did not have the slightest objections to marrying you." Erik sighed. "Of course not. I promised not to touch her, with me she is safe and can remain faithful to her…" He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence. "With me, it's as if she were going to live with her good uncle Erik. After all, I am twice her age and could be her uncle, if not quite her father," he added bitterly.

"Now you are talking nonsense, Erik," Nadir admonished his young friend. "You know that she cares for you deeply, that she trusts you more than anybody else in this world, and that she even seems to like your face. By Allah, she was positively radiant when you took off the mask for her today. In fact," he continued, "I am sure that if she did not have this aversion against marriage – whatever the reason for it may be – you would not just be her first choice but her one and only choice."

Erik did not seem convinced at all. Nadir sighed inwardly. The emotional wounds Erik had received during his childhood had been healing somewhat recently due to Christine's influence, the fact that he had found a way to earn money in a respectable way, the encounter with his godmother Marie and Father Mansart, and especially his mother's letter. But some scars still remained and would plague his friend for quite some time to come, if not for the rest of his life. His low self-esteem was one of these old scars. Having Christine living with him, but being honor-bound not to touch her, was exactly the kind of emotional stress Erik did not need right now. What Erik needed would be her love and understanding and her full acceptance of him. Would she really insist he keep that promise? Nadir did not quite see that happen. He had had the impression that morning that Christine was waiting for Erik to kiss her passionately. At the very least he was convinced that she would not have denied Erik if he had done so. And that she would have enjoyed being kissed like that by her new husband and returned the kiss.

Nadir sighed. The relationship between the newly-weds was obviously more complicated than he had imagined. Right now the question was mute anyway. The two would not be living together for a few more weeks. A lot could happen in that time. It was still time to worry once they were both together in Boscherville and Christine really insisted on keeping the marriage one in name only.

"Relax now, Erik," he told his friend. "For the moment all is well. You need not worry right now about your marriage or marital relationship with Christine. Concentrate on the fact that we have completed the first step of our plan and that we have reason to hope that the rest will go just as smoothly and Christine and Philippe will be safe in a few weeks. Once this problem is solved we can work on the next one, on making your marriage with Christine work."

Xxxx

The next two weeks passed rather uneventfully. Erik went to Boscherville once a week to discuss the progress of the adoption and custody claim with the Mayor, to oversee the repairs at his house, to personally tune the piano, and to buy additional furniture. A tiny bed for Philippe had found its way into the master bedroom, the future nursery had been repainted in bright colors, a diaper changing table had been added, and a warm fluffy carpet put into the room, so that the boy could play on the floor. Erik finally went back to his lair to see which of his possessions could be salvaged after the mob had destroyed his old home. He packed books and other items in a huge crate and had it delivered to his house in Boscherville by rail-cargo.

Erik also took a bag of his own clothes with him every time he went to his new house and left them there, and he started to buy clothes for Christine and Philippe. He had promised that he would provide for Philippe, and he would therefore make sure neither Christine nor the boy needed to take anything with them that was bought with the Comte's money. Christine should only bring her personal belongings, things she had inherited from her father, bought with her own money, or received as a gift from himself, the Girys, or even Raoul. Clothes were of course not all he bought for his new family. There were toys for Philippe, a baby's high chair, since the boy would soon be able to sit up on his own, a child's lidded drinking cup and other utensils helpful in raising an infant, toiletries, jewelry, accessories, books, sheet music, and hundreds of other gifts for Christine – just like Erik had bought for her all those years ago at the opera, only now it was different. It was even better. Now he had a right to shower her with gifts, for now she was his wife – if only in name.

Whenever Erik was not in Boscherville he and Christine met at least briefly in the de Chagny garden. Christine always was looking forward to these meetings. Now that she was legally Erik's wife she felt as if they had become even closer. The thought that she would soon be able to live with Erik, somehow made her feel all warm and cozy inside. She had not been as happy in a long time. She felt as if she had been walking in darkness all her life and suddenly the sun had come out and was shining brightly on her way. She was eagerly waiting for the day the legal aspects would be solved and Erik would finally be able to take her and Philippe home.

Home. Christine could not remember a time when she had had a real home. At first she had been traveling with her father, then she had lived at the Opera, then with Raoul and his family, but she had not felt at home there at all. With the de Chagnys she had been more like the barely tolerated outsider. With Erik, she was certain, she would finally know what it meant to be at home. Christine never tired listening to Erik's descriptions of the house and the furniture, to his reports on the progress of the small repairs. She knew he was doing his very best to make sure she and Philippe would be comfortable at his house and her heart was overflowing with gratitude for her dear Angel.

Christine had no idea how she could ever thank Erik enough for all he had done for her and her son, but she was determined to at least try her best to make him not regret having married her. She would take care of the household and make sure he had everything he needed. She would also help him get accepted in his home town. She knew from Erik's reports that both Marie and the Mayor were already preparing the townspeople to the fact that Madeleine Chabrier's disfigured son was about to come home and live at his mother's house. That this young man was wearing a mask to spare others the sight of his deformity, but that there was no reason to fear him because of the mask. That he was in fact a very talented gentleman and a successful composer whose music was selling extremely well. But Christine had a feeling that the people at Boscherville would still be a bit wary of this masked stranger, at least at first. The fact that Erik was uncomfortable around people and tried to hide away as much as possible certainly would not help the situation, but a pretty young wife and child who were devoted to the man would go a long way to help him find acceptance.

Christine's mind wandered back to her wedding. Even though she and Erik were getting married in name only and mainly to get Philippe out of the Comte's grasp, the vows they had exchanged had felt so real and meaningful. She knew that Erik would always be there for her, protect her, guard her and guide her, in good times and in bad times, in sickness and health. He had already proved this to her. She also knew that she would always be there for him, support him and defend him, encourage him and care for him. She had not really had much of a chance to prove it to him yet, but she knew that Erik would be able to rely on her from now on. He would never be alone again. Christine would also make sure that he would not be quite as earnest all the time anymore. She would try to make him smile once in a while. Christine loved her Angel's smile, the way his eyes twinkled when he was amused.

Erik's eyes. Christine sighed dreamily. Her Angel had the most expressive eyes she had ever seen. When she looked into his eyes the mask and what it hid really did not matter at all. These eyes could hold so much affection, tenderness, so much warmth and caring, and all these emotions were directed at her! It was a good feeling to be loved like that.

Love. Why was she suddenly thinking about love? Christine shook her head. No, what she and Erik shared was friendship. Love was different. Love was a physical attraction, the continuation of a childhood dream, the promise of a happy future with traveling, parties, a place in society. Love was kissing your childhood sweetheart on the roof of the Opera and something girls giggled about when discussing it. Love was what she had shared with Raoul. Love was fun while it lasted, but it did not seem to last terribly long. Five or six months of bliss and then the estrangement had begun. Christine was positive that no such thing would happen between her and Erik. Their relationship was so much deeper and more meaningful than the one she had had with Raoul. It was built on trust and had developed and grown over the years. Christine knew of course that Erik had loved her two years ago – or thought he loved her. For she was convinced that he had always felt the same about her as he did now, and their feelings for each other were certainly those of a very strong friendship. Friendship was so much better than love. Unlike love, it was not built on appearances and dreams, but on years and years of close contact, on knowing each other well, on trust and gentle caring, on tenderness. Friendship meant being there for the other, to help them and defend them. Christine was so happy that her second marriage had nothing to do with love. Friendship was a much better guarantee that this marriage would last.

Christine's mind once again returned to the wedding ceremony. She was not sure what she had expected when Father Mansart had told Erik to kiss her. In a way she had been panicked, since she and Erik had agreed that nothing would change between them, and somehow she thought, a kiss might be the first step of falling in love, of losing the wonderful, deep friendship they shared. But in a way, she had wanted Erik to kiss her. She had remembered their kisses in his lair two years ago, those kisses that she – shamefully – had initiated herself. They had felt so right. Their lips had met and parted, allowing their tongues to meet. She had been in love with Raoul then and scared of Erik, who had been completely out of his mind at that point, but despite all this, their kisses had felt right. She had had a feeling then that Erik had enjoyed those kisses as well. Why had he then seemed so reluctant to kiss her when Father Mansart told him to? Had he felt shy in the presence of all their friends? But in that case he surely could kiss her now whenever they were meeting in the de Chagny garden? After all they were married, so it would not be improper in the slightest if they kissed. Kissing was a way of showing affection, a sign of emotional closeness, was it not? Yes, Erik had promised that he would not ask her to do certain disgusting, humiliating things that married couples normally did in their bedrooms and she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. She had endured these activities with Raoul because she had been in love with him, and because she wanted children, but they already had Philippe. She probably would have been able to endure those activities with Erik if he had insisted, since she cared for him deeply, but she was glad he would spare her the embarrassment. He was so considerate, a real gentleman. But a kiss was different, was it not? Surely Erik did not think they would have to make do without kisses just because they would not do certain other things? No, Christine thought. He is probably only waiting until everything is settled, until he has me and Philippe in his own house. Surely he will kiss me then, once we are alone and nobody can interrupt us.


	29. Ultimatum

Chapter 28 – Ultimatum

February turned into March and the de Chagny garden was starting to show the first signs of the returning spring. Slender, light green grass blades were beginning to sprout and the trees showed thick buds that would soon develop into new leaves. Christine and Erik had been married for approximately two weeks and both were counting the days until the adoption and custody claim would be settled in their favor. The longer the wait took, the more nervous they both became, fearing that something might go wrong, that the Comte would find out about their scheme in time to appeal, that despite all their efforts they might still lose the child.

Whenever the couple met in the garden, they tried to comfort each other, clinging to each other and repeating to each other that they had taken every possible precaution and that therefore this simply _had_ to work. As long as they were together they managed to convince themselves and each other that all would be well, but once Erik left the garden, and they were each on their own, their doubts and fears returned.

Christine knew from Erik that so far everything had gone well and that the Mayor of Boscherville was confident that everything would be settled within the next ten to twelve days, when she was once again summoned by the Comte. She paled in shock and her heart began to pound rapidly. What could her father-in-law possibly want from her? Had he found out about her secret marriage and Erik's attempts to adopt Philippe and get custody over the little Vicomte? Was he going to tell her he had taken counter-measures and there was no way she and Erik could keep the boy?

Nervously she entered the Comte's study. How she wished Erik were here and they could face Raoul's father together. But she knew pretty well that this would not be possible even if Erik had not gone to Boscherville this very morning to personally oversee the transport by train of his horse César to their new home. As long as the legal aspects had not been resolved yet, they would have to keep their marriage a secret and therefore she would have to deal with the Comte on her own.

Like the last time he had spoken to her, the old man was facing away from her, looking out of the window. Christine summoned all her energy and managed to mumble a greeting. The Comte slowly turned around and looked at her. To Christine's utter dismay, he once again looked her over like a piece of merchandise before fixing his eyes on her chest. Christine blushed deeply when she realized he was staring at her breasts. His behavior was definitely uncalled for and very insulting. She would have liked to slap the old man hard for treating her with so little respect, but she remembered in time that it would not help her case if she angered her father-in-law.

After a while the Comte began to speak. "Your breasts are full and round, Madame," he said with a slightly salacious undertone in his voice. "I see that you are still lactating. Why have you not followed my order to wean off my grandson?" He looked at her threateningly. Christine's fingers nervously played with her handkerchief. Erik had asked her to stall for time, and she therefore had not made much of an effort to wean off her son. Philippe did take some additional nourishment now, but he still preferred his mother's milk.

"I… I have tried," she finally stammered, " but Philippe does not like the food alternatives too much and the doctor has told me that some children need their mothers longer than others. Another month or so would do my son a lot of good." The old Comte looked at her as if she were an irritating insect. "Enough of this nonsense," he roared. "I will not allow that my grandson is being coddled like that any longer. I want him to become a man one day, not an effete youngster who cannot withstand the slightest wind without getting thrown to the ground. As I told you a while ago, no more breast-feeding. None at all, is that understood?" Christine pulled at her handkerchief again, and nodded silently. She was not able to speak. She had a feeling that if she tried to utter one single word, she would start yelling at him, telling the old man her opinion of him and his behavior and then he would be so furious at her, that he would never give up on Philippe, not even if it meant a scandal in order for him to get custody.

"Good." The Comte seemed slightly appeased by her apparent obedience. "Now to you, Madame. When are you going to get married?" Christine closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. What was she to say? She could not tell him that she was already married, since that would make him suspicious as to why she had kept her second marriage a secret so far. What had Erik told her to do? The thought of Erik helped her calm down a bit and she finally managed to address the Comte.

"I am currently checking all my options," Christine began. "I have made lists of former friends or suitors that might be potential candidates for me to marry. I am trying to sort them in order of preference, so that I can contact them in that order and thus find the best husband for me." Christine was not sure she was making a lot of sense, but at least she had not told the old man anything about her plans, nor had she said anything that would give him the impression she was outright defying his orders.

The Comte sneered. "In other words, you have not even approached the first one yet," he spat out. "How much longer do you expect the de Chagnys to feed you and clothe you? We do not need the likes of you in our family. It is time that you find somebody else to provide for you. Or at least somebody willing to give you his name so that you can provide for yourself with your entertainment abilities." The tone of his voice left no doubt about what kind of abilities he thought she would use to provide for herself. Christine looked down. She wished she were a really talented actress and able to make him believe she would do everything he asked of her, just so that he would leave her alone for a few more days. Ten days, twelve, two weeks at the utmost, then everything should be settled and Erik would come and take her and Philippe away to Boscherville, to his house, which was by now almost ready for the three of them, and then all would be well. How long two weeks could be with the Comte trying to force her to follow his orders!

"Since you have ignored my advice, Madame, and have not made any attempts to find a husband that is to your liking, you have nobody to blame but yourself if I choose your next husband for you," the Comte continued. "Fortunately, my good old Jacques Roulin, the tenant of my farm near Limoges, will be in Paris tomorrow to discuss some business affairs with me. As I have told you previously, he is widowed and needs a new wife for the farm and his two youngest children. I am sure he would take you if I accommodate him with a slightly more favorable tenancy agreement." Christine stared at the old man wide-eyed, in shock. Could he force her to marry this man that she had never met before? Probably not, since she was already married, but could she give away this bit of information? She shook her head. No, that would be too risky. She also remembered that Erik was keeping their marriage certificate, so even if she told the Comte the truth, she would not be able to proof that she was married.

"But, Monsieur le Comte," she finally begged. "I do not know this gentleman. I have never met him before nor does he know me. Would you kindly grant me a few more days, maybe two or three weeks to find a husband that is to my liking?" The old Comte laughed. "I already gave you ample time," he said, "and you refused to make use of it. What guarantee do I have that you will actively look for a new husband now when you have not done so before?" Christine looked down. She had no answer.

"It is agreed then," the Comte added, "that you will come to my study tomorrow at 10:30. Jacques will be there then. Make it look like you have something to ask of me, pretend you do not know Jacques is here. Use whatever techniques you have learned for the stage to appear natural. I will then introduce you to Jacques. Then you take your leave and I present my offer to him. If he accepts, and rest assured he will," the Comte grinned at her devilishly, "I will give you exactly two weeks to get married, not one single day more. If two weeks from tomorrow you are not married to a man of your choice, then on that day you will become Mme. Jacques Roulin, is that clear?" Christine sighed. Two weeks might be enough time, albeit barely. What if an unforeseen complication arose and the adoption and custody case took a few days longer? At least she would be safe for these two weeks. And Erik would be back in Paris tomorrow afternoon and she would be able to discuss all this with him and ask for further instructions what she should do if their legal case was not settled by the end of these two weeks.

Christine relaxed. Her Angel would know a way out of this dilemma. Her husband would protect her. "Yes," she said. "I understand. I promise I will be married two weeks from tomorrow, or else I will have to marry this M. Roulin." Christine was proud of herself. She would be able to keep this promise. She would be just as married to Erik in two weeks as she was right now. In a way she had told the Comte the truth without giving away anything.

The Comte nodded. "That's agreed then," he stated. Relieved, Christine asked to be excused and made her way towards the door, when the Comte suddenly addressed her again. "Oh, and tomorrow," he told her, "no black dress. Wear light colors, short sleeves, some cleavage. Let's show Jacques what he'll get if he accepts."

Xxxx

Christine was able to hold back the tears until she had safely reached her room, where she collapsed onto her bed, sobbing. Mme. Giry who came by a while later to ask Christine if she wanted to go out into the garden a bit, was shocked to find her in such a turmoil of emotions again. She hugged her surrogate daughter and pulled her close, talking to her soothingly. Christine clung to her and between sobs told her what had happened in the Comte's study a while ago.

Mme. Giry was not particularly surprised. She knew by now that the Comte wanted to get rid of Christine the sooner the better. Of course it was an unfortunate coincidence that Erik was currently out of town and could not comfort Christine himself, but then, the Comte had given Christine two weeks, so chances were good, that everything would be settled before this ultimatum. The problem at hand was now to get Christine through the humiliating meeting with this widower from Limoges the next day. Mme. Giry could understand how Christine was feeling about this encounter. After all, the Comte had basically told her to dress up and look sexy for this farmer so that he would agree to take her once the two weeks were up.

"Shh, Christine," she tried to comfort the sobbing young woman. "Two weeks is a long time, and you know that unless something unforeseen happens, two weeks will be enough, so don't worry. And even if something happens you won't have to marry this fellow, you can't marry him, since you are already married. Yes, it will be awkward for you to meet him tomorrow, knowing that he will be appraising you to judge if he'd like to have you in his bed. He'll most certainly not want to marry you because of your abilities to work on his farm, since those are non-existent. But," she continued, "think about the bright side of it all. The Comte has practically ordered you not to wear black anymore. This is your chance to stop wearing those depressing dark clothes without having to fear criticism that you do not mourn for Raoul properly. I am sure, Erik will appreciate your wearing brighter colors."

Christine blushed. It was true that Erik favored dark colors for himself, but she knew from the past that he preferred seeing her in light, pastel colors which contrasted beautifully with her dark curls. The thought of being able to dress up for Erik somehow appealed to her. She realized that she wanted to look as pretty as possible for her new husband.

Mme. Giry knew she had found the right way to make things easier for Christine. "See?" she murmured. "When you dress up tomorrow morning, you will not do it for this farmer, but you will do it for Erik. He will be back from Boscherville in the afternoon, and I am sure he will stop by to give you the latest news. Imagine his surprise when he sees you in a pretty dress!" Christine nodded. She would just have to remember during the meeting with this Jacques-person that he could not have her, no matter what, and that she was not looking that pretty for him, but for her dear Angel and husband. "Let's pick a dress," she finally whispered.

Xxxx

The next morning, Christine put on a white summer dress with a pretty lace trimming around the neckline and embroidery on the sleeves. She pulled her mass of dark brown curls back with two combs, allowing them to flow freely down her back. Then she looked into the mirror and eyed herself critically. Would Erik like the way she looked?

At half past ten Christine made her way towards the Comte's study. She knocked and when the Comte asked her to enter, she opened the door. She stopped on the threshold, as if surprised. "Oh, Monsieur le Comte," she mumbled apologetically, "I did not mean to interrupt, I was unaware that you had a visitor. I just wanted to ask, if you had seen my red scarf somewhere. I seem to have misplaced it."

The Comte chuckled and asked her to come in. "Ah, Madame," he said jovially, "I think you have not met Jacques before. Jacques, this young lady was my son's… wife." He paused deliberately before the word "wife", making it seem as if she had been Raoul's mistress. Christine was seething with anger, but managed to keep her composure. She glanced at Jacques. He was a burly man in his fifties, had huge hands and very red cheeks, and all in all he looked like a brute to her. He also was looking her over as if he were stripping her naked in his mind. Christine shuddered at the thought that she would have had to marry this man if her Angel had not asked her to become his bride.

"Courage," she told herself. "Just get this meeting over and done with. This Jacques can't have you, no matter how much he is lusting after you. Just think about his disappointment when he'll learn the truth." She forced herself to plaster a sweet smile on her face, and managed to say, "Nice to meet you, Monsieur." Then she turned to the Comte. "I do not want to hold you up any longer," she said. "Please accept my sincere apologies for interrupting your business meeting." With that she turned on her heels and left.

The old Comte turned towards Jacques. "So, what do you think of her?" he asked. "She is not bad to look at, or is she? Anyway, you need a wife and we need to get the comedian out of our family." Jacques stared at him. Was the Comte offering him his own daughter-in-law as his new wife? "Of course I know that her past is hard to swallow even for you, Jacques," the Comte continued. "But then, nobody knows her down there in Limoges and her past has its bright sides, too. After all, a woman that young with her kind of experience with… you know what…" he said with a leer. "Also, if you took her, I would reduce the annual rent for the farm by five percent." Jacques smiled lasciviously. His recently deceased wife had been a simple farmer's wife, not particularly pretty. He had always wanted a gorgeous, young girl in his bed, but the prettier girls were not looking his way. He would have had to force one, which might have caused a scandal in the small community where he lived. Now he was practically being offered one on the silver platter. And not just for one night. He would be able to enjoy her pretty body whenever he wanted to.

"You wouldn't have to be too gentle with her," the Comte continued. "She is used to rough treatment. One of her lovers was a murderous psychopath." Jacques's grin widened. Maybe this new bride of his would be able to fulfill some of his rather sadistic needs. "When?" he rasped. "When can I take her?"

"In two weeks," the Comte replied. "I have given her an ultimatum. If she has not found somebody herself and is married two weeks from today, I'll give her to you that very same day, and you can do with her as you please." Jacques grinned. He had a feeling he was being offered the grand prize, even though this woman would not be able to help with the farm work.


	30. Return

Chapter 29 – Return

Christine breathed a sigh of relief once she had made her retreat from the Comte and the lecherous tenant. With a little bit of luck she would never have to see that disgusting widower again. She spent the next few hours with Mme. Giry, Meg and Philippe, and once she knew Erik's train had arrived in Paris, all four ventured out into the garden to wait there for him. Once they had reached the corner of the park, where Erik and Christine usually met, the Girys stayed behind with the boy to give the couple some privacy.

Erik arrived a few minutes after Christine. His eyes widened and he looked at her lovingly, when he saw her lovely dress and open hair. Christine blushed under his adoring gaze. It was a wonderful feeling to know that her Angel - her husband – found her attractive. She threw herself into Erik's arms and buried her face in his chest, his physical presence and his manly, musky scent calming her somewhat. "So much has happened those past two days, Angel," she sighed. Erik sensed how tense she was, and the realization that she needed him, helped him regain control over his raging hormones, which he had come very close to losing when Christine had appeared before his eyes in such a pretty dress which highlighted all her assets and with her beautiful curls falling freely down her back.

"I am here now, you can tell me everything," he told his young wife, holding her close for comfort. "I will help you with any problems you may have encountered." Christine nodded, then, slowly she began her story. Erik's fists clenched when he heard how the Comte and his tenant had treated Christine as if she were a fallen woman. He felt like he would strangle both men if they were present at the moment.

Now it was Christine who sensed his anger. She looked up at her dear Angel and smiled at him. "Don't be so mad, Erik," she giggled. "At first I was offended as well, and I would have loved to slap the old Comte. And this tenant of his as well. But Mme. Giry pointed out that there is a bright side to the whole affair as well. I do not have to wear those dreadful, depressing black outfits anymore! The Comte himself ordered me to wear prettier colors. Are you not glad as well that I can now wear dresses like this one again?" Christine looked at her husband expectantly. She was eager to hear what he thought of her appearance. Erik nodded. Christine looked desirable to him no matter what she was wearing, but the light color and the sophisticated cut of this dress accented her assets in all the right places and Erik thought by himself, that she was breathtakingly beautiful. His desire for her and his pride that this charming young woman was his wife were equally strong.

Erik sighed. They were not yet living together and he already felt the strain of not being able to kiss her and show her how much he loved her. It must be utter bliss to kiss those red lips and to … Erik shook his head. No, he could not lose himself in erotic dreams. He had promised Christine he would not take their relationship in that direction and he would keep his promise. One look into her eyes, so innocent and trusting, brought his mind back to the problem at hand.

"Yes, this dress looks very good on you," he finally mumbled. "You know that I will find you attractive no matter what your attire, but I have to admit that black is a rather unbecoming color for a young lady. It made you look so pale." Christine beamed. Her Angel liked her looks, and he preferred her current outfit to her previous black dresses. She did not quite understand why it suddenly mattered so much to her that he found her a pleasant sight, but she had a feeling that it would hurt her terribly if he did not.

Erik wondered only for about a second if Christine's obvious delight at his compliment was due to the fact that he, her husband and best friend, appreciated her looks, or if she just liked compliments in general. Had he just had the impression that she was trying to appeal to him physically, dressing up for him? Or was she just anxious to look as good as possible for no particular reason? It did not matter either way, since for her he was just her best friend and guardian angel. He had to remember this. There was no use in reading anything else into her words and behavior. She had made it clear that she did not want a new husband. She would never accept him as her lover.

His thoughts returned to their current problem. "Do not worry, Christine," he tried to comfort her. "I just talked to the Mayor this morning. He is confident that our case will be settled early next week. As soon as I have all the documents in order, I will come for you and Philippe. Should there be a delay and we do not have everything ready yet, I will still come for you in two weeks. The Comte can't object, he will have to let you go with me, since we are legally married. If he asks why I have not claimed you sooner, I will say that my house was not ready yet. That's close enough to the truth and will sound plausible enough. I married you at once to ensure he could not force you into another marriage and then I made arrangements for my house to be ready for my wife. We'll avoid any mention of Philippe. Once I have you safely with me, we'll just have to wait out a few more days for the adoption and custody claim to get finalized, and then we'll come back and claim our boy. But as I said before, the Mayor does not expect any delays. We should all three be out of this house two weeks from today."

Christine smiled. It had not escaped her that Erik had referred to Philippe as "our boy". In fact, even though the adoption was still pending, by marrying her, he had already become Philippe's stepfather, and she knew that these two were getting along fine and would be a terrific father-son duo. "Thank you, Angel," she whispered. "You always find the right words to comfort me and you have a solution for every problem we come across." She was much calmer when she walked back to the house than she had been ever since her meeting with the Comte the day before. Erik was there to protect her and to fight for her and Philippe's right to be together. With him by her side all would be well.

Xxxx

Another week went by uneventfully and Christine knew that with every day that passed, she got a bit closer to her final escape from the de Chagny-mansion, where she had hoped to live a happy life with Raoul, but which had turned more into a gilded cage for her. She was looking forward to the day when she would finally be able to leave this house with her Angel, and hopefully by then, they would be able to take her son with them as well.

The Mayor of Boscherville had promised that he would come to Paris immediately once he got word that the case was settled, bringing all the necessary documents with him, so that Erik could proceed straight to the de Chagny estate and claim his family. The Mayor knew that the whole case had become slightly more urgent due to the Comte's deadline, and he was willing to do everything in his power to help the young couple against the despised noble family.

Xxxx

A young man wearing once expensive but now shabby, well-worn clothes exited from the ferry that linked Dover to Calais. His age was hard to determine, since debauchery and alcohol had carved deep lines into his once pretty face. Dark-blond long hair framed his slightly sunken features and stubbles of the same dark blond covered his chin. He could be anywhere between twenty-five and forty-five years old. His green eyes had a malicious glare to them and despite his poor appearance the man's body language oozed arrogance. Quite obviously he seemed to think that he was entitled to the most extensive service.

Anybody who had known the elegant, well-dressed Théophile-Auguste de Chagny, a regular member of the demi-monde of Paris, would have been hard-pressed to recognize the stylish dandy in this debauched fellow. Things had not gone well for him in recent months, ever since his planned attack on his cousin's widow had failed last summer. The birth of Raoul's son had been the next heavy blow to him, since never in his wildest dreams had he expected Christine's child to be a legitimate de Chagny. The birthmark on the boy's back was irrefutable proof though, of the infant's heritage, and his old uncle had gone totally gaga over his grandson, completely forgetting the bad blood running through the child's veins, the heritage of the boy's comedian-mother.

Of course it had not helped either that this blasted woman had somehow guessed that he had been the driving force behind the attack on her life, and the little speech she had given at her husband's funeral in front of half the French nobility had seriously harmed his reputation as well. It had not gone unnoticed in society that the old Comte, who loathed scandals, had publicly shunned his nephew then, making it clear that he would not tolerate the younger de Chagny's criminal machinations.

Unfortunately, these instances of misfortune had coincided with a time of enormous financial need. Théophile-Auguste had always lived beyond his means. He loved luxury, expensive wines, demanding mistresses, horses, fashionable clothes and similar amenities. In order to be able to afford all these things he had started gambling. At first, he had been lucky a few times and he had been able to carry home a substantial win once or twice. But instead of using this money wisely by putting it into a bank account and adding the interests to his regular income, he had just increased his expenses and indulged in even greater luxury.

He had so gotten used to this costly lifestyle that he had not been able to cut down on his expenses once his resources had started to dwindle. At first he had still been able to borrow money from friends, but when he had lost several thousand francs at the gambling table in one single night, people became more and more reluctant to lend him money. His financial situation had already been rather precarious last winter, when his cousin Raoul's marriage problems had suddenly given him new hope. Raoul's departure had made it easy for him to tell his potential sources of money that Raoul was publicly distancing himself from the adventuress who had ensnared him with her female wiles. He had been able to convince some of his friends that the Vicomtesse was carrying a bastard and that Raoul was about to send her packing. According to Théophile-Auguste Raoul's departure was the equivalent of a separation and would facilitate the upcoming divorce.

Raoul's death could not have happened at a more favorable moment in his cousin's opinion. With Raoul gone, and his wife's child labeled a bastard before the boy had even been born, Théophile-Auguste's own chances at the title and the considerable assets of the de Chagny family had increased exponentially. Then the child had been born, the true de Chagny heir, which not only meant that Théophile-Auguste lost his claim to the title and the riches of the family, it also increased the old Comte's anger at his nephew, when he realized that the unborn child the latter had tried to kill, really was his grandson. His uncle had made it clear that he would not help Théophile-Auguste with his financial problems. Worse, he even had officially chased him out of his house, and therefore everybody in Paris knew that approaching the Comte for payment so that the family's reputation would be preserved, would be useless. Théophile-Auguste had had to leave Paris almost overnight. He had had very little cash to take with him, and the few valuables he had carried had soon been sold. Since he had never learned to work he had not been able to sustain himself long in the London society. At first there had been a few elderly ladies who felt flattered by his attentions and had paid some of his bills, but he could not go on like this forever. Husbands and relatives soon made sure the lady in question would not be exploited any longer by the young beau.

Théophile-Auguste was not quite sure why he had returned to France once again. He knew that his apartment and all his furniture, his carriage and horses, had been seized by the authorities and sold in order to satisfy at least his main creditors. But the proceeds from these sales had been far from enough. He still owed a lot of money to a lot of people. Because of his inability to pay combined with his escape he was wanted by the police. Moving around Paris would be dangerous. He had to make sure nobody would recognize him or he might be arrested and sent to prison.

Théophile-Auguste had decided, though, that he would take that chance. He was planning to make one last attempt with his uncle. The old Comte was beyond rich. It would be no problem for him to pay his nephew's remaining debts and grant him a few thousand francs so he could get started again. If he had at least enough money to spend a few weeks in society again, he might still have a chance. He would have to find a rich wife, either a young, naïve heiress, or even better, an elderly widow he could charm with his youthful appearance. Of course, he might have to promise the old man that he would move far away from Paris, so that he could bring no further shame upon the family, but Théophile-Auguste was ready to do pretty much anything in order to get rid of the charges against him and to get some money back into his hands. Maybe if he could make his uncle understand how utterly disgraceful for the whole family it would be, if he had to resort to less and less honorable means in order to survive and finally ended up in prison, would he be able to convince the Comte that it was in his own best interest to keep this failure of a nephew afloat.

Théophile-Auguste sighed. It would be hard work to convince his uncle and he'd need his full range of persuasive talents in order to reach his goal. Of course the best solution for him would be if that child died. Then he would be the next in line and no matter what his uncle's opinion of him, the old man would have to pay his debts and then accept him back into the family. Or maybe not. Théophile-Auguste had a feeling that if something happened to the de Chagny-heir, his uncle would immediately suspect his involvement. The Comte had made it clear that he would know to protect his grandson. If Théophile-Auguste attempted ever again to get rid of this nuisance of a little relative, who had stolen his rights to the title and the inheritance, the Comte would probably be the first one to point a finger at him. Should the child get harmed in any way, Théophile-Auguste would be locked up in prison for life, maybe even executed as a murderer. Then the title would go to Théophile-Auguste's younger brother Cyprien. No. Théophile-Auguste shook his head. He would not do the dirty work, so that this prig could profit from it. He would have to try and convince his uncle to help him. That was his last chance.

Théophile-Auguste walked over to the train station to check when the next train to Paris would be leaving. He would have to buy the cheapest ticket, and even that would mean he'd not have enough money left to buy himself dinner. Maybe he could steal a meal somewhere. Or maybe even better, a full purse. It was about time he got used to that kind of activities. After all, if his trip to Paris was unsuccessful, if he could not convince his uncle to help him one last time, there would not be that many alternatives left. Dressed like he was now and with not even the tiniest amount of money at his disposition he certainly would not be able to seduce a rich woman. He had not learned anything that would allow him to get a job, nor had he any interest in honest work. Gambling was a possibility, but even for that he would need some funds, too. After all, one could not gamble with no money at all. That pretty much left crime as his only way of survival, should he not be able to extract some money from his uncle.

Théophile-Auguste shuddered. He did not like that alternative either. Not for reasons of morality. After all, he had not had any problems plotting the assassination of his cousin Raoul's widow. No, the reason why he did not like the idea of stealing was that he had no practice in that regard. He knew he lacked the dexterity to be successful in this métier. He feared being clumsy and getting caught. He also hated the fact that he would have to do the dirty work himself. It was one thing to pay a few thugs telling them he would be delighted if he never saw a certain female relative again, but actually pulling a purse out of somebody's pocket? Personally attacking somebody in a dark alley and stealing their valuables? That was not exactly his idea of fun, for on top of everything else, Théophile-Auguste was a coward.


	31. Violence

Chapter 30 – Violence

Théophile-Auguste had made his way to Paris. Since he had no money, but also since he was wanted by the police and therefore could not have gone to a hotel even if he had had the funds to pay for a room, he had spent the last two nights in a stable, sleeping in the hay. As much as he hated these primitive accommodations, at least he was reasonably warm there, and safe from the police.

Théophile-Auguste had not planned that far in advance and therefore he found himself now faced with the problem of how to approach his uncle. Because of his status as a wanted criminal he could not just walk up to the estate to pay his dear relatives a visit. As loyal as the servants were to the entire family, Théophile-Auguste had a feeling he could not count on their support under the current circumstances. The hope to be financially rewarded for turning in a fugitive criminal would be just as much of a motivation for them as the fact that the old Comte had officially chased Théophile-Auguste out of his house last fall. In this case, the servants' loyalties would lie with their master, not with his disgrace of a nephew.

What other possibilities were there? Should he write to his uncle? Théophile-Auguste was reasonably certain that he could make sure his letter would reach the old man. But would his uncle read it? He might open it, if Théophile-Auguste managed to disguise his handwriting enough so that the Comte would not know right away, who had sent the letter. But there was no guarantee he would finish reading it. In this case the letter would not help Théophile-Auguste at all. On the contrary, it would alert the Comte to his nephew's presence in town, and Théophile-Auguste would not put it beyond his uncle to pass that information on to the authorities.

Théophile-Auguste cursed. He needed to talk to his uncle. Alone. He needed to make sure nobody would interrupt them and the Comte would not be able to leave before he, Théophile-Auguste, had made his plea. All he needed was an opportunity to speak to the old man. But how could he arrange such a meeting between the two of them? Was there a chance to lure the Comte to some secluded place? Not very likely. His uncle was not gullible. Any letter asking him for a secret encounter with an anonymous writer, no matter what the excuse for the appointment, would make him suspicious. He would never go to such a meeting alone and unarmed.

No, it seemed he would not be able to make the Comte come to him, therefore he would have to come to the Comte. Was there a way to get on the grounds and into the house without being seen? The doors to the garden were either locked or guarded, and Théophile-Auguse had never had the keys for any of these doors. He was not good at picking locks either. That left the wall around the garden. It was kind of high, though, and the thought of climbing up there and maybe jumping down on the other side was anything but appealing to him. But if he got over the wall he could simply walk over to the house and enter it from the terrace. If he waited till the evening, when it was getting dark, no one would see him climb the wall and he could enter the house undetected. He could then hide in his uncle's study and wait for the old man there. He knew that the Comte usually went there after dinner to prepare everything for his appointments and business transactions of the next day. If he infiltrated the house during dinner time, when the servants were busy serving the meal, this plan could work. Nobody would notice his presence until he had the old man cornered in his study. He would of course have to cut the bell pull in the study, so that his dear uncle would not be able to summon help. Théophile-Auguste grinned. Yes, this plan was flawless. The old man would have no choice but hear him out.

Xxxx

Around six o'clock that same evening, Théophile-Auguste arrived at the estate. He avoided the main entrance and slowly walked around the wall which encircled the garden, looking for a spot where it might be possible to climb up. He finally noticed a lose brick which might provide a foothold, not too far away from a place where the branches of an old tree inside the garden were hanging over the wall. It was still risky to climb up here, but he at least had a chance. Théophile-Auguste made an effort to reach the lowest branch from that precarious foothold and at the third attempt he succeeded. Using the branch for support, he finally managed to pull himself up on the wall.

Théophile-Auguste looked around to get his bearings. He saw that he was close to the east corner of the garden, about as far away from the house as he could get. He could be reasonably certain that nobody would hear him if climbed down. The branches of the tree would allow him to glide down the wall and the last two or three feet of height he would have to jump. Théophile-Auguste was about to make his descent when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He cursed inwardly. Who could possibly be out in the garden at such a late hour? None of the gardeners would work in the dark and surely nobody would go for a walk in the dark either?

He carefully glanced in the direction the footsteps seemed to come from to see what was going on down there. His eyes widened when he recognized the lovely young woman with the beautiful long dark brown curls flowing freely down her head. It was her! That little bitch who had somehow managed to get married by that fool Raoul! That comedian, who by pure chance had gotten pregnant by her husband and not by one of her lovers, that blasted woman he had tried to get rid of but who had escaped the trap and had had the guts to more or less publicly accuse him of having attempted to kill her and her unborn child.

Théophile-Auguste's anger flared. In a way this woman was the reason of all his problems. Without her, there would be no grandson to inherit the title, without her, the old Comte would not have chased him out of his house, without her, he would be the new Vicomte. In his anger, Théophile-Auguste conveniently forgot the fact that without her, it was doubtful Raoul would have rejoined the Navy and died in the line of duty.

Théophile-Auguste sneered. What was that woman still doing here? Had she seduced his uncle now? Made him believe in her innocence and her faithful loyalty to Raoul? Théophile-Auguste shook his head. No, she most definitely was not the faithful wife. She was not even the mourning widow anymore. Raoul had died, what? Eight months ago? She should still be wearing black for him. But she was wearing a light colored gown, and her hair was not tied up in a bun as would be appropriate for a woman in mourning. It seemed she had reverted to her coquettish manners. The dress she wore was very becoming. Now that she was not pregnant anymore and had regained a perfect body, the dress really accented her beauty. The wealth of luscious hair only made her look even more desirable.

The young nobleman licked his lips. It was not the first time that he realized her appeal. He could understand his cousin Raoul's attraction to her. He imagined that it would be easy for her to make a man do anything she asked of him, even if it were marriage. He observed her as she approached the trees in the far east of the garden. His hormones and his anger flared at the same time. This woman was the reason of his current disgrace. She had alienated him from his uncle. She deserved punishment. And he knew exactly what kind of punishment he wanted to subject her to. It would be sheer delight to see her squirm in his grip and beg for mercy, when he forced her to accommodate him, to let him satiate his burning desire in her warm flesh. It would be the most exquisite of pleasures to break her will and force himself onto her.

As silently as he could, Théophile-Auguste made his way down the wall, then followed the lonely woman to the deserted corner of the garden. She seemed lost in thoughts and did not hear him coming. She would be easy prey.

Xxxx

Christine had not seen Erik the whole day. He usually came in the early afternoon, but he had not been at their meeting point when she expected him. Apparently something had kept him away. Since the deadline the Comte had given her was almost there, and they were still waiting for the adoption to be finalized, she anxiously awaited any news from her Angel. She knew that he preferred to walk around after dark, so she had slipped out into the garden once again in the hope that he might have made it there in the meantime. What had kept him away earlier today? Was it good news or bad? Had some problem arisen that required his immediate presence? Was there a chance they would not be able to take Philippe with them?

Christine was worried sick about her son's future. She also knew that the decision would be made within the next few days. The closer they got to the Comte's deadline, the more nervous and restless the young mother became. She was so engulfed in her problems that she did not hear the approaching footsteps until somebody grasped her from behind and put a hand over her mouth. She was paralyzed with shock, when she recognized the oily voice that whispered in her ear. "Not one single word, ma cousine. If you scream, I'll kill you. Even if I don't, screaming won't help you. Your reputation will be ruined. Nobody will believe you that you were not a consenting party." Her eyes widened in fear. Théophile-Auguste! What was he doing here? When had he returned to Paris? Did her Angel and Nadir know about the rascal's presence in town?

She was still fighting her shock, when the attacker pushed her further into the grove, shoving her back against one of the old trees. He had managed to grasp both her hands with his left hand and was holding them up high above her head, his right hand was reaching for her dress' neckline, while his legs were trying to prevent her from kicking. When his mouth descended towards hers, Christine found her voice again. "Leave me alone!" she hissed, turning her head to the side to avoid his kiss. Christine writhed in her captor's arms, trying in vain to kick him hard enough that he would release her in pain or to somehow pull free. Théophile-Auguste's body was pressing her so close to the tree that she could sense his arousal.

"You really are a little wildcat, are you not?" he whispered into her ear, full of anticipation "I have always thought you might like it wild and violent. After all, your first lover was a murderous monster, wasn't he? Did he force you? Did you enjoy it when he took you?" Christine twisted again in his grasp. Since Théophile-Auguste was holding the front of her dress, trying to slip his hand into her cleavage, her sudden movement tore the thin fabric, exposing her left breast almost to the nipple. Théophile-Auguste leered. "I like how you did that!" he cooed. "You make it look like you are fighting me while giving me access at the same time!"

He ogled Christine's bare breast and prepared to lower his lips onto the enticing flesh, when strong hands suddenly grasped for his neck and pressed hard on his windpipe. Théophile-Auguste tried to turn and face his attacker, but the latter held him in a wise-like grip and threatened to suffocate him. Théophile-Auguste released Christine, his hands grasping for his neck, trying to loosen the attacker's hold on his throat. A voice trembling with mal-contained fury hissed into his ear. "You will leave the lady alone. Do you think it is fun to be at the mercy of an assailant? Do you like it? Do you?" With every question the fingers around Théophile-Auguste's neck tightened and his face was turning a dark shade of purple.

Christine, who had collapsed the moment the newcomer had torn Théophile-Auguste off her, raised her eyes. "Angel," she whispered. "Don't. Do not kill him. Do not kill because of me." Her faint, broken voice had an instant effect on Erik. His anger diminished almost at once. She was right. It would be a bad omen if he began their new life together with a murder. He also did not want her to watch him kill anybody, not even such revolting vermin as Théophile-Auguste. He threw his adversary to the ground, kneeling on his back. Then he hit him hard on the head till Théophile-Auguste was unconscious. To make sure that the latter would not wake up at an inopportune moment and attack them again, Erik removed Théophile-Auguste's shoe-laces and used them to tie the young man's hands and feet. To prevent him from screaming he shoved his handkerchief in the unconscious attacker's mouth, thus effectively gagging him.

Then he turned towards the sobbing woman on the ground. "Christine!" Erik's voice was full of tenderness. Christine looked up at him, smiling. She was safe. Her Angel was here, he had saved her once again. Erik was about to pick her up from the ground and hold her close when he suddenly froze. His eyes rested with horror on her torn dress and her almost bare left breast. He blushed deeply at seeing her so exposed, and at the same time he felt his body react to that sight. He turned his back to her in shame. Had Christine realized that he had seen.. that he had looked at her with desire? She did not deserve this. She had just barely escaped being raped, the last thing she needed was another man making a display of his desire for her, least of all the man to whom she was married and who had promised her never to touch her. How could she ever trust him again once she realized how strong his desire for her really was?

Christine's tears started to flow again. A moment ago she had felt so safe and protected, her dear Erik had called her name with so much tenderness, and then he just turned away from her and did not even look at her? What was the matter? He could not possibly think that this was her fault? That she had provoked or encouraged Théophile-Auguste? "Angel," she sobbed. "Are you mad at me? Please, look at me. Please don't hate me for what happened. I did not know he was there. I was hoping to meet you. He attacked me, I was paralyzed with shock. I tried to fight him, but …" her voice trailed.

Erik closed his eyes. What was he to do? Christine needed comfort, but her state of undress made it impossible for him to look at her right now. Even if he could somehow suppress his desire, his eyes on her exposed flesh would embarrass Christine. "Christine," he finally rasped. "I am not mad at you. I know this was not your fault. But…" He blushed deeply. "Your dress… you are not decently… umm … covered."

Now it was Christine's turn to blush. She had not even thought about her state of undress. Somehow the torn bodice had not mattered anymore the moment Théophile-Auguste had released his grip on her and she had felt safe under her Angel's protection. Somehow she had not thought about covering herself in his presence. But Erik was such a gentleman. He had thoughtfully averted his eyes to spare her embarrassment. Her heart went out to her husband. He was so considerate of her. She was moved by his tactful gesture, even though deep down she had a feeling that it would not bother her if Erik saw her like this. Everybody else, yes, but not her Angel. She was not quite sure at first, why she would not mind him seeing her exposed like that, then realization hit her. He was her husband! It was not inappropriate at all if Erik saw her like that. And deep down she almost wanted Erik to look, but she did not even dare admit that to herself.

Christine quickly pulled the fabric of her torn bodice over her exposed breast and held it in place with her hands. "You may look now, Erik," she whispered. "I am decent. Sort of. But you do know that you are my husband. For you it would not have been inappropriate to see me…" She blushed even deeper, when her Angel's strong arms closed around her and pulled her close.

"Oh Christine," Erik whispered. "Forgive me. You have just been rudely attacked, you are obviously still under shock and need comfort and protection, and all I can think of is decency." His voice was like a warm caress, like a soothing balsam on her highly agitated nerves. Christine buried her face in Erik's chest, relishing his closeness and the knowledge that – with the possibility of her son – her Angel was the most important person in her life. How good it felt to have such a good friend! And to think that he was her husband as well, that he would soon be always close, always there to protect her and keep her safe! Christine felt all warm and fuzzy inside at that thought.

Erik's hands moved up and down her back in a calming gesture. "My poor Christine," he cooed to her. "I wish I could have spared you this experience." Christine hugged him, pulling him even closer. "You were there in time, Angel," she murmured. "He did not …" she blushed, unable to finish the sentence. No, this was no subject for a conversation. "He could not even kiss me," she slightly changed the subject. "I turned my head away." Erik nodded. He was glad that the low scum had not been able to steal the sweet fruit from her lips which he himself so much desired but could never have. "Did he hurt you in any way?" he asked. Christine shook her head. "A few bruises maybe, mostly on my wrists, but nothing serious." Then she remembered something. "Erik, 'I waited for you this afternoon. Where have you been? Why have you come so late today?"


	32. Escape

Chapter 31 – Escape

Erik wrapped his arms even tighter around her. "I am sorry I made you wait, Christine," he whispered to her softly. "I was about to leave, when the Mayor arrived at Nadir's place." Christine looked up at him, nervously. "The Mayor? Our friend, the Mayor of Boscherville? Does he finally have news for us?" Christine was anxious to learn what kind of information the Mayor had given to Erik, but at the same time she feared that something might have gone wrong. This was the decision she had been waiting for for weeks, the decision about her son's future. Would they be able to take Philippe with them, so that she and Erik could raise the boy together in an environment full of harmony and tenderness, or would they have to leave the little Vicomte with his cold, heartless grandfather, who would turn the child's heart against his mother, making the boy feel ashamed of the "comedian" who had given birth to him? Christine knew that Erik's next few words would either bring her great relief or the worst pain imaginable. She had a feeling that not even the presence and tender care of her Angel and husband would be able to comfort her should she have to give up her beloved little boy.

Erik smiled at her. "All went well," he said. Christine trembled in his arms. She had been preparing herself for the worst, now the sudden relief almost overwhelmed her. Erik had apparently expected a similar reaction from her, for he pulled her even closer, supporting her as best he could. A very tiny smile played across Christine's pale features and her eyes glowed with an inner joy. "Philippe?" she whispered, her voice so weak and thin, both from the shock of Théophile-Auguste's attack and the anxiety about her son's future, that Erik barely could hear her. Erik nodded, raising his right hand to her face and lovingly pushing a stray curl behind her ear, then cupping her cheek. Christine relaxed under his gentle caress. She relished the sensation of Erik's long, slender fingers on her face.

"Philippe is now my son," Erik confirmed. "Nobody can take him away from us." Christine was assaulted by a turmoil of emotions: relief, that she could keep Philippe, joy, that everything had gone so well, and deep, heartfelt gratitude for her Angel, who not only had made it possible for her to pry little Philippe away from his grandfather, but who was also willing to provide for her and the child, who had offered them a home and would be a loving father for her son.

"When?" she finally managed to ask. Erik glanced to the side, where Théophile-Auguste was beginning to stir. "I came to tell you I would come for the two of you tomorrow," he told her. "But after what just happened, I do not want you in this house one second longer than absolutely necessary." Christine trembled at the memory of her recent ordeal and Erik shuddered at the thought what the desperate nobleman could have done to his beloved wife, had he not arrived in time to stop the attack on her.

"Come with me, now, my dear," Erik whispered into his wife's ear. "I will escort you back to the house. Go and get changed, pack your personal belongings, but nothing else. Don't take any clothes or similar things that come from the de Chagnys, I will show the Comte that it's not his money we are after. I can provide for my family. Make sure that you are with either Antoinette or Meg, preferably both, at all times. I do not want you to be alone even for a second, do you understand?" Christine nodded. His worry for her and his thoughtful care warmed her heart.

Christine still was on shaky legs from the shock of the attack, but Erik supported her and gently lead her towards the house, while explaining the next steps of their plan to her. "While you pack, I have to return home and get the documents, and I will hire a cab. Maybe I can ask Nadir to come with me, or even the Mayor. Expect us in about one hour," he told her. "Can you be ready by then?" Christine nodded. She felt weak and exhausted, but the thought of leaving this house and of finally being able to be with Erik somehow invigorated her. "I will ask Mme. Giry and Meg to help me," she whispered. "Oh Angel, I am so glad we can finally be together!"

Erik shook his head. He must be hallucinating. For a fleeting moment he had imagined Christine looking at him, her eyes burning with love – pure, intense love, directed at him. For a brief second he had had the impression as if her lips were waiting for his kiss. He must have been mistaken. The pale moonlight had probably distorted his perception and played tricks on him. Christine cared for him deeply, Erik knew that, but she only felt friendship for him, not love.

Christine's still rather weak voice woke him from his reverie. "Where?" she asked. "Where are you taking us, Erik?" He smiled at her. "There is no train anymore to Boscherville tonight, we will therefore have to stay at Nadir's for this one night. I don't see a problem there, we will be cramped, but we can do it. You and Philippe can have the guestroom, I will sleep on the couch. Tomorrow I will take you home."

Christine felt a comfortable warmth spreading throughout her body and enveloping her like a shield. Home. The three of them together, her, Erik and Philippe. Her and Philippe safe under Erik's protection and coddled by his care. Nothing and nobody able to separate them ever again.

They had almost reached the house. Erik stopped. "Will you be able to walk the last few steps on your own?" he asked. "I'd rather not get detected by the servants now when we have gone to such great lengths to keep our marriage and our meetings a secret till now." Christine looked at him, full of new-found confidence. "I think I can manage," she murmured. "Please Erik, hurry. The sooner you are back here for me and Philippe, the sooner we can all be together."

Xxxx

Erik hurried home as fast as he could. Even though he did not think that Théophile-Auguste would be able to free himself anytime soon and it was not likely that anybody would find him in the garden and untie him, he was nervous about his Christine's safety. Théophile-Auguste had tried once to kill her and now he had almost raped her. His presence definitely only meant trouble. Erik knew that he would not find peace until he had his family safely in his care.

When he arrived home, he found Nadir and the Mayor sitting together over steaming cups of tea, discussing the latest political developments. Both men looked up when Erik rushed into the living room. They noticed immediately that Erik was extremely agitated. "Erik, you look terrible!" Nadir exclaimed. "Is something wrong?" Erik fell into a chair, exhausted. "Théophile-Auguste," he rasped. "He is back. He was in the de Chagny-garden. So was Christine, she was waiting for me." Nadir inhaled sharply. He could easily guess that the young woman must have somehow run into the man, who had already tried to kill her once before. "By Allah," he whispered, deeply worried. If anything had happened to Christine… He did not even want to think about what the consequences might be for Erik, should he lose her now. "Is she…" His voice trailed. He nervously looked at Erik, observing his face for clues to what exactly had happened.

Erik sighed. "I was in time. Barely. That blasted criminal was trying to rape her." Both, Nadir and the Mayor sighed a big sigh of relief. This was bad, yes, but at least Erik's intervention had prevented the worst. "She is shaken," Erik said, "and she will probably have a few bruises, but otherwise she is unharmed." Nadir smiled at him, comfortingly. "Praise be to Allah," he muttered, before addressing Erik again. "What about Théophile-Auguste?" he asked. "You did not..?" Erik shook his head. "Of course not, Daroga," he hissed. "I rendered him unconscious and tied him up with his own shoe laces, gagged him with a handkerchief. I do not think he will be able to free himself, and nobody will be out in the garden at that time. He is probably still where I left him."

Nadir thanked Allah once again. For a brief moment he had feared Erik might have killed the young nobleman. That he had not, was a good sign. His friend was really starting a new life, if he was able not to act on his darkest impulses even under a situation as emotionally charged as an attack on his beloved Christine.

"Don't worry, Erik," he said, putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "We will all go to the de Chagny-estate right away and get her and the boy. We cannot leave them there any longer." Erik smiled. "I was hoping you would say that. Even if you had not, I would have gone for them right away. I only needed to come back and pick up the documents and Christine had to pack her things and get changed." He blushed at the memory of Christine's exposed breast. "The pig had torn her dress," he added per way of explanation.

Nadir Darius to hail a carriage and to prepare everything for Christine and the infant while they would be gone, then the three men left to confront the Comte. Erik was anxious to claim his wife and adoptive son himself, but Nadir managed to convince him that it would be wiser if Erik waited in the cab and Nadir and the Mayor talked to the old man. "You are agitated, Erik, after what has just happened to your Christine," Nadir told him. "I am calmer and more relaxed, and I am the better negotiator anyway." Erik smiled. He remembered the advantageous conditions Nadir had got him for the sale of his compositions. "Monsieur le Maire is a public official, so his presence will help me even more," Nadir continued, before adding hesitatingly, "and do not forget the rumors about you and Christine…" Erik's anger rose. He had almost forgotten that half the Parisian nobility was convinced that Christine had been his mistress long before she had married Raoul de Chagny. Nadir patted his back. "No, Erik, don't get angry. If you want to help her, you must calm down. But because of these rumors it might be better if the Comte did not see you." Erik had to admit that Nadir was right. Officially, the Phantom of the Opera had died in the fire which destroyed the Populaire. There was really no point in making the Comte doubt that the Opera Ghost was truly dead.

Xxxxx

The Comte de Chagny was getting ready for dinner, when his butler announced the arrival of two visitors, who wanted to talk to the Comte "in an urgent matter". The Comte stared at the two calling cards. One of the visitors was a mayor. He was not entirely sure where Boscherville was located and it probably was only a small town, but the man represented the authorities. The other man must be a foreigner, to judge by his name. No Frenchman was called "Nadir Khan". His first impulse was to ask the butler to tell them he was unavailable, but at second thought it was never a good idea to upset an official. It might be better to hear what the mayor and his companion wanted.

"My study," he instructed the loyal butler. "Lead them there in five minutes." The man was far too well trained to show his surprise. He had not expected his master to see these late visitors. When he showed the two strangers to the Comte's study a few minutes later, the old nobleman was seated behind his desk, pretending to be busy with his records.

The Comte greeted his two guest and offered them a seat. "How may I be of service, gentlemen," he asked jovially. The Mayor cleared his throat. "We are here on behalf of M. Erik Chabrier," he stated, as if this would be enough to explain their presence. The Comte vaguely remembered having heard that name before, but he could not quite place it. At his puzzled look, the mayor added, "the successful new composer." The Comte nodded. Now he remembered. There had not been one soirée recently where not at least one of the young ladies had performed songs by this maestro, who for some reason seemed to avoid the salons of Paris.

"I see," the Comte uttered, still not sure about the purpose of this visit. "I am afraid, though," he continued, "I am at a loss. I do not know M. Chabrier and I have no business with him." The Mayor gave him a sympathetic look. "We will explain in a moment," he said, "but please first have a look at our letters of authorization signed by M. Chabrier."

Nadir and the mayor produced their letters and the Comte had to admit that they were in order. Then the mayor put a neat little folder in front of the Comte. "M. Chabrier has sent us to escort his family to him," he explained. "These documents will prove the validity of his claims."

Surprised, the Comte opened the folder. What was this nonsense about the composer's family? What business did he have with them? He glanced at the topmost document. His eyes widened. This was a marriage certificate stating that Christine de Chagny, née Daaé, widow of Raoul de Chagny, and Erik Chabrier had gotten married almost four weeks ago at the cemetery chapel.

"That lying bitch!" he screamed. "She has already been married for a few weeks and did not say one word when I told her to find a new husband at once!" He furiously rang and ordered the nervous servant to summon the comedian immediately. "He can have her," he told Nadir and the mayor. "He should have taken her with him the moment he married her. I could have been rid of this disgrace of a woman weeks ago!" The mayor was about to say something, but Nadir interrupted him. "Let me take it from here, Monsieur le Maire," he said calmly. The mayor nodded.

"Maybe Monsieur le Comte would like to have a look at the other documents as well," Nadir's voice sounded as sweet as honey. "I think he will understand then, why M. Chabrier has waited this long to claim his wife."

The Comte had barely glanced at the next document, when he yelled at his two visitors. "Out with you!" he roared. "Never! I will not allow this obscure musician to raise my grandson!" Nadir did not seem in the least intimidated. He looked the furious Comte in the eyes and said, "If you enjoy having police come here and forcibly remove the child from your care, this can be arranged. M. Chabrier loves his wife and his adoptive son very much, and he has been granted custody of the child by the civil court of his département of origin. He is entitled to take the boy with him so that he and his wife can raise him."

The old Comte paled. Police at his estate? That would cause a major scandal, and he certainly could not afford seeing the de Chagny name all over the news yet again. A shy knock on the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," the Comte shouted. The door opened and revealed Christine, Philippe on her arm, followed by the two Girys who were carrying Christine's bag.

The Comte raised his fist as if to hit her. "You scheming little vixen," he hissed at his daughter-in-law, "You had it all planned. I do not know how you made this composer marry you and adopt my grandson, probably the same way you seduced my son to marry you, but I won't leave it at that. I am not giving up. I will file an appeal. My grandson has to remain in my care!"

Christine paled even more. Nadir smiled at her, encouragingly. "You will do no such thing, Monsieur le Comte," he stated calmly. "That is, unless you want to take M. Chabrier to court over this. That is your only option, but if you do so, your grandson will lose his right of inheritance as M. Chabrier's adoptive son. You would rob the child. Public opinion would see you as a selfish relative." He let his words sink in.

"And of course there is the additional problem of your nephew Théophile-Auguste…" Nadir added calmly after a few minutes. The Comte inhaled sharply. "What about him? I have not seen him in months," he stated. "Whatever he has been up to, I have nothing to do with it." Nadir smiled his enigmatic smile. "Really?" he asked. "Then what was Monsieur Théophile-Auguste doing in your garden tonight?" The Comte's reaction showed clearly that he had been unaware of his relative's presence. "What? Where?" He was too shocked to form a coherent sentence.

"Unless somebody has freed him, this disgrace to your illustrious name should still be lying in the eastern corner of your garden, tied up like a parcel and gagged," Nadir explained. "M. Chabrier arrived in time to prevent the low scum from raping Mme. Chabrier." Christine shuddered at the memory. Nadir patted her on the shoulder. "It's all right, Christine, you are safe now. Erik is waiting for you." She smiled at him, bravely.

Then Nadir turned to the Comte. "Maybe you would like to send somebody out into the garden to look for your nephew?" he suggested. The Comte nodded. He rang for the servant again and asked him to search the eastern part of the garden for Théophile-Auguste and bring him into his study, if possible as tied up as M. Khan had said he was. Fifteen minutes later, Théophile-Auguste was brought to the study. The Comte was shocked. He had considered Nadir's words to be a ruse of some sort and had not expected to actually see his criminal nephew.

"The situation is like this, Monsieur le Comte," Nadir explained. "As you know, M. Chabrier has the authorities behind him, he is entitled to raise the little Vicomte. You can only get custody by robbing the boy of some of his inheritance. M. and Mme. Chabrier also have the right to have your nephew arrested for attempted rape. The authorities are looking for him anyway because of debt fraud, are they not?" The Comte paled. His name would be tarnished forever, the de Chagnys could never survive all those scandals with their reputation intact.

"However," Nadir continued, accentuating every single word, "M. and Mme. Chabrier are willing to forget about today's incident if you make sure that Théophile-Auguste will never cross their paths again." A shimmer of hope glimmered in the Comte's eyes. "How?" he whispered.

"Ship him off to one of the colonies," Nadir advised. "Grant him a small amount of money, the interests of which he can use, but he may never touch the sum itself. He has to collect the interests at a local bank and the moment he returns to France he will lose even these assets." The Comte nodded, relieved. That way he could rid himself of his obnoxious nephew. "I will do that," he said. "And if M. Chabrier would be kind enough never to mention my nephew's most recent transgressions, I will not dispute his right to custody." Christine's face radiated with joy. They had won. She could keep her son.

The Comte approached her. "Will I be able to see the boy from time to time?" he asked. Christine nodded. "He is your grandson," she whispered. "We will not influence him against you. I will also make sure he knows about Raoul and he loves his dead father. Erik – my husband – is not trying to take Raoul's place in his son's heart, but he loves Philippe very much and we both think that a child needs parents more than he needs grandparents. Philippe will grow up in a real family."

The Comte nodded. Nadir pulled out his wallet and put a handful of bills on the Comte's desk. "M. Chabrier has agreed to provide for his wife and adopted son," he explained. "He is therefore reimbursing you for whatever expenses their stay at your house may have caused you since his wedding day." Then he turned to Christine. "Come now," he said. "Erik is waiting for us."


	33. Together

Chapter 32 – Together

Nadir took Christine's bag from Mme. Giry and lead her out of the house towards the waiting carriage, the mayor following behind . The moment Erik saw them approaching, he jumped out of the cage and took his wife and new son in his arms. "Finally," he sighed. "Finally I have the two of you with me. You are both safe now, nobody will ever be able to harm you again. I will always protect you."

Christine started sobbing at these tender words. The horror of Théophile-Auguste's attack and the tension she had experienced during Nadir's negotiation with the Comte finally caught up with her. "Angel," she cried into Erik's chest. "What would I do without you! Hold me, I need to feel it that we are now together forever!" Erik pulled his cloak around her and held the sobbing woman in his arms. "Don't cry," he begged her. "The bad experiences lie behind you. Everything will be fine now. I am here with you and I will never leave you or Philippe again." With these words he helped Christine into the carriage and climbed in as well. Nadir and the Mayor followed, after they had promised the Girys to send the carriage back for them. With Christine gone, they would not stay at the de Chagny-mansion any longer either.

The short trip to Nadir's place had a surreal quality for the young couple. Huddled together, Erik's arm around Christine, her head on his shoulder, the boy happily babbling in Erik's lap, they both felt more at peace than they would ever have thought possible. Only now did they fully realize how much they had missed each other and how much they needed each other. This feeling was so precious and yet so new to them, that both feared they were dreaming and might wake up any moment. Nadir and the mayor exchanged a knowing smile. They both knew that the couple's past had been a thorny road, but it was obvious that their love had only grown and deepened as a result.

Xxxx

They dropped the mayor off at his hotel, after having made an appointment to meet him at the train station the next morning, so that they could travel to Boscherville together. Then the carriage proceeded to Nadir's place. Darius had outdone himself to prepare everything for Erik's little family. The guest room, where Erik had stayed so far, was ready for Christine and Philippe. Darius had used a laundry basket as a makeshift-bed for the little Vicomte and had somehow managed to provide diapers and other child-care articles out of nowhere. For Erik, the sofa in Nadir's living room had been turned into a bed. Dinner was ready and there were even flowers on the table.

Christine was moved to tears and even Erik was touched. Nadir smiled at them. "We are just as glad as the two of you, that things have worked out the way they did," he said. "When we were standing watch at the de Chagny summerhouse in Normandy last July, none of us was expecting this development." Erik nodded. He looked at his wife. "When I first saw you then, I was shocked. I had known that the de Chagnys shunned you and that your husband had left you alone when you would have needed him most, and I expected you to be unhappy about this situation, but I was not prepared to see you so depressed. It was as if your soul had left you."

Christine shuddered at the memory of those lonely days in Normandy. "I was about to despair," she whispered. "The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I had to be strong for my baby. And then," a beautiful smile radiated across her features. "When things got really bad and I thought everything was over, my Angel, whom I had believed to be dead, came for me." She blushed deeply. "Erik, words cannot describe how much it meant to me that you were not only alive, but willing to help me, after all I had done to you. God knows, I do not deserve your devotion and loyalty, but it is the greatest gift I have ever received in my life."

Erik's heart beat faster, when Christine looked up at him after these words. Her beautiful eyes displayed so much affection and tenderness and her lips smiled at him invitingly. Was this wishful thinking? Was the poor light in Nadir's living room playing tricks on him? Or had Christine just looked at him as if she expected him to kiss her?

Nadir observed the two. It was obvious that both wanted nothing more than to join their lips in a kiss of pure love and hot passion, but it was also clear that something was holding them back. Something was obviously still standing between the couple, but he had no doubts that it would not be too long, before these two would finally give in to their feelings for each other and become one in every sense of the word.

The tension of the moment was broken when Darius announced that dinner was ready to be served. He had kept a bit of the vegetable soup aside before seasoning it, and Christine watched with delight as Erik fed his new son the soup. It was the first time ever that Erik could do this. He had loved the little boy almost from the beginning, because he had his Christine's eyes, and now that he was officially Philippe's adoptive father and had custody of the boy, he decided that he wanted to be as much of a father to the little Vicomte as he could. He had begged Christine to let him feed the child. "I have already missed so much of his early development," he had said. "And since Philippe has two parents now, it is only right that we should care for him together."

Christine's heart filled with tenderness, when she realized how serious Erik took his new duties of fatherhood. Her son seemed to enjoy himself in his new father's arms and he ate almost all of the soup. Christine then made sure the little one burped while Erik paid close attention to everything she did, so that he would be able to do it himself the next time. "Before we can put him to bed, we have to bath him and change his diapers," she explained to Erik. "Do you want to help me with that as well?" Erik nodded eagerly and Nadir smiled, as the young couple disappeared with the infant into his bathroom. Who would have thought that the fearsome Opera Ghost would be bathing a baby and changing diapers?

Half an hour later, the couple emerged, the baby clean and wrapped in fresh diapers. Christine carried Philippe to the guest room and laid him into the laundry basket-turned-baby bed. Erik looked at her. "You should take a bath as well," he said, "and then you should go to bed. We will have to get up early tomorrow morning, if we want to catch the train to Boscherville. After today's events you need to rest."

Christine had to admit that she did feel tired – and that she would love to take a bath and wash away the memory of Théophile-Auguste's hands on her. "I will do so, once he is asleep," she whispered to Erik, looking lovingly at her yawning son. Erik gently urged her towards the door. "I will stay with him," he said. "You go ahead and take your bath."

When Christine returned to the guest room half an hour later, she felt relaxed. Soaking in the hot water had done her a lot of good. She had scrubbed her skin meticulously, to cleanse herself from any residue of Théophile-Auguste's lecherous attack on her, and she had even washed her hair. She was wearing Erik's bathrobe on top of her nightgown, since she had left all of her clothes at the de Chagny-mansion, with the exception of one set of clean underwear for both herself and her son. The robe smelled of Erik and Christine deeply inhaled his masculine, musky scent that in her opinion exuded safety and security. How wonderful it felt to be protected by her dear Angel, her husband, her Erik.

Christine smiled at the sight of Erik sitting on the floor next to Philippe's makeshift bed and watching the sleeping baby with adoration and love. When he heard her enter, Erik rose to his feet and turned to her, his finger on his lips to silence her. "He is asleep," he whispered. Christine smiled at him in gratitude. She knew she could not have found a better father for Philippe, her son was as safe and well guarded by her Angel as she herself.

Erik noticed her damp curls, that had gotten quite entangled during the process of being washed. "You will need to brush your hair and braid it," he said softly, so as not to wake the boy. "Or it will be a total mess in the morning." Christine nodded. She hated that part of her personal hygiene. Her mane of dark curls was hard to tame and often enough defied all attempts with comb and brush. Erik hesitated. The memory of an early morning in a barn in the countryside emerged unbidden from his thoughts, making him wish to do again what she had allowed him to do then.

"Do you want me,…" he began hesitantly, then interrupting himself. A slightly awkward pause followed. How would she react? He was her husband, yes, but in name only. He had promised her no intimacies – but where did those intimacies begin in her opinion? Would she think that him offering her to brush her hair was already a breach of their agreement? But on the other hand, she had accepted his help previously. That thought finally gave him the courage to finish his sentence.

"Would you want me to help you with your hair?" Christine blushed. She, too, remembered that morning in the barn, the morning after her Angel had come back into her life to rescue her from the vicious attack on her life. The morning, when she had first allowed him to brush her hair. She knew that it had not been exactly appropriate then to let him help her with her personal grooming, but she had enjoyed his handling of her hair greatly. He had been so gentle with her and although he had not resorted to using force he had managed to handle her unruly curls. The thought that now, that they were married, he might do this for her more often, filled her with a feeling of warmth and tenderness. Now he had the right to brush her hair for her. Christine yearned for that intimacy while at the same time she felt embarrassed at the strength of her longing for Erik's touch. And she was still hoping for him to kiss her anytime soon.

Erik was nervously waiting for Christine's answer, and when she seemed to be lost in thought he feared that he might have offended her with his offer, when she turned at him, smiling. "I would like it very much, if you helped me, Angel. You did such a great job with my hair in that barn last summer, none of the maids has ever treated me that gently. I have been hoping that you would offer me your help more often now." The unmasked part of Erik's face was radiant with joy. This was as good as an invitation to brush her hair whenever he wanted to, every morning, every evening.

"Sit down," he told her softly, picking up her brush and starting to work on her curls. Christine relaxed under his tender care and relished her husband's gentle handling of her hair. Erik, on the other hand, was overjoyed that she allowed him to touch her in such an intimate way. His whole body yearned for her and he needed all his courage and resolution to keep his distance, not to take her into his arms and kiss her passionately and then take her into his arms and carry her to the bed and worship her body until they would be one. But moments like this were worth it. If he had not agreed to this marriage of convenience, he would never have been able to brush her hair again, to feel those splendid curls in his hands, to inhale the discreet scent of the soap she had used to wash them.

Neither Christine nor Erik spoke while he worked on her hair, yet the silence between them was more meaningful than a thousand words. Currents of unspoken longing and love went from one to the other and tied the two hearts even closer together than they had been before.

Once Erik was finished and Christine's hair was braided neatly for the night, Erik bid her good night and turned to leave the room. Christine hesitated. "Angel," she whispered. Erik looked back at her. "Do you need anything else, Christine?" he asked. Christine realized that she had been about to ask him to stay with her all night. She remembered another incident from their travel back to Paris last summer. They had shared a bed one night in the little inn. She had felt so safe sleeping in his arms, and it had felt so right to wake up next to him. She realized that she wanted to repeat this experience – and not just once. She wanted to sleep in Erik's arms every night for the rest of her life. She blushed slightly. It was not inappropriate for a married couple to do that. He could not think poorly of her, if she asked him to stay with her. But one glance at the bed had reminded her, that this was a guest room for one person. The bed was simply too narrow for two. Her desire to sleep in Erik's arms would have to wait till they were home. Tonight she would have to sleep alone for the last time. But at least she was sleeping in a bed in which Erik had slept for the past couple of months.

Erik looked at her questioningly. "Is there something else you want me to do for you?" he asked softly. Christine nodded. "Angel, would you sing for me?" she asked shyly. Erik smiled. He would do anything for her. "Lie down, my dear," he said, "and close your eyes. I will sit here and sing you a lullaby, but you must really try to sleep now. You need your strength. We have a few hours of travel ahead of us tomorrow." He sat down on the edge of the bed. Christine grasped for his hand and held it tight, but she obediently closed her eyes as he had told her and listened to the beloved voice of her Angel. Erik had not finished the song yet when she was already fast asleep. He removed his hand from her grasp, careful not to wake her, then went to join Nadir in the living room.

Xxxx

Nadir smiled at him. "Erik, you are quite the family man," he teased his young friend. "I would not have thought you had it in you, but you are a natural with the boy, and Christine, well… " Erik sighed. "I love her so much, Nadir," he said quietly, trying not to wake his sleeping wife and child. "I am proud and happy that she trusts me like that. God knows, I have done nothing to earn her trust, the way I treated her way back at the Opera Populaire." Nadir put a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder. "You both made mistakes then," he said. "You were both too inexperienced with relationships, and in a way you both still are, but you have both grown and matured in the meantime, and at least now you both know that you can trust each other. Do not let the past trouble you any longer. You have forgiven Christine her betrayal and I know she has forgiven you your violent rages of jealousy. You have both been given a chance for a new beginning, and I can see, that you both are happy about this. You have hurt each other and doing so has caused you both pain and suffering, but you must both accept that this is all behind you. I know you have your doubts, but I know that your future together will be bright."

Erik sighed again. "Nadir, she let me brush her hair, and she said she hoped I would help her with those curls more often now, that we are married. You cannot begin to imagine how much it means to me that she allows me to do such intimate things for her, but…" Erik blushed deeply. Revealing the immensity of his need for Christine embarrassed him somewhat, even when speaking to another man, and his closest friend at that. "I would want so much more," he finally added, barely above a whisper. Nadir chuckled. "You don't have to be ashamed of the fact that you desire your own wife, Erik," he said. "It would be rather embarrassing if you did not feel like that about her." He caught a glimpse of the miserable look on Erik's face. "Don't give up hope now, Erik," he advised. "She may not feel quite that way about you yet – though I would not bet my reputation on it that she doesn't – but she does care for you more deeply than even she herself seems to be aware. Give her time, Erik. She is still so young, and she has already been through a lot. I think her problem is, that while she has already opened her heart to you, she is not totally ready for a new relationship yet. But once she will be ready," he smiled. "Erik, how many rooms exactly are there in your house? How many children could the two of you have, before it gets too crowded?"


	34. Blessings

Chapter 33 – Blessings

The next morning, Christine woke early. This was finally the day she had waited for so long: her Angel would take her and Philippe home. She would finally have a home, a place where she belonged. Strangely enough, she had the feeling as if she would finally be where she was meant to be – with her Angel. True, leaving him two years ago had somewhat hurt her, and when she had believed him dead, thinking of him had been too painful for her, so that she had tried to block memories of him from her mind. But never during her marriage with Raoul had she thought even once that maybe, just maybe she had made the wrong choice.

Then her Angel had reappeared when she had needed him most, had saved her and protected her as he had always done, but all her heart had felt was joy at seeing him alive and well, and an immense gratitude. When she looked back at those days now, Christine wondered if that really had been all she had felt. There had also been a very deep trust between them, a trust that defied logic. After all her previous experiences with this man, she had known beyond any doubt that she was safe with him, that he would neither hurt her nor do anything even remotely inappropriate. Christine blushed at the memories of that day in the barn and of their journey to Paris on horseback and by train. She had been the one doing the inappropriate things, putting his hand on her swollen belly to make him feel the movements of her unborn baby, allowing him to brush her hair, asking him to share a bed with her. It had all felt so right. She had not realized it then, but she understood now that she had instinctively felt that she belonged with him.

For the first time Christine wondered if she should not have chosen Erik right away. Sure, she had loved Raoul, and at first they had been happy together. In fact, had it not been for his family and for the fact that the French nobility never accepted her, their marriage might have worked out just fine, even though their relationship had lacked the depth of her friendship with Erik. With Raoul she had felt like a burden to him, she had almost been the reason of his alienation with his family. She knew she could not really expect a man to protect his wife against his parents and relatives, but she could not deny either, that she had hoped Raoul would do just that. For a while he had tried, then he had taken the side of her opponents and in the end he had left her, because he could not stand the conflict any longer.

Christine had a feeling that Erik would have protected her against each and everybody, he would not have allowed anybody to look down upon her. On him she could always count. True, Raoul had been a handsome man, and younger than Erik, which might have influenced her in Raoul's favor, but Erik was the reliable one, the one who understood her, since they both were lonely and they both loved music, and he was the one that would protect her and cherish her for the rest of their lives. She smiled. Erik was the Angel of Music her father had sent to her. Even though she now knew that there was no such angel and that Erik was just a normal man, she had no doubts that her father had indeed sent him to her. Her father had been worried about her, leaving her orphaned at such a young age. He had loved her so much and he had known how much she would miss him and how lonely and unhappy she would be without him. It was therefore only logical to assume that he would have sent her a protector, someone to watch over her and to keep her safe.

Her father. Christine suddenly remembered that she had promised her father to visit his grave together with Erik, once she and Philippe would be free from the de Chagnys. She got up and looked into the adjacent living room. Erik was already up and dressed. Christine's heart beat faster and a wave of tenderness washed through her, when she saw him. She could not understand anymore how she could ever have feared him or thought of his face as revolting. When she looked at him now, all she could think of was safety and tenderness – and a desire to touch and be touched.

Erik had been packing his bag when she entered. He looked up, and his face lit up. "Christine," he whispered, almost reverently. He was still trying to get used to the fact that his beloved and her son would always be with him from now on, that he would be able to see her whenever he wanted to, that he would be able to provide for her, keep her safe and make sure she was as happy as could be expected after all she had been through.

Christine smiled at him. "Angel," she said, putting her arms around Erik – her husband, she reminded herself – and resting her head on his chest. "Do you think it is possible to stop by at the cemetery on our way to the station? I would like us to go visit my father's grave together. I am sure he will be happy that we are now a family, and it will feel like getting his blessing." Erik nodded. He knew how close Christine and her father had been. He was taking her away from Paris, away from her father's grave. He could understand that she wanted to go there once more before leaving for Boscherville.

"We will have to hurry and leave a bit earlier than we originally had planned," he said, pulling his wife closer. "But it will be possible. We will go there together." Christine thanked him with a radiant smile.

Xxxx

An hour later, the young family had had breakfast, packed all of their belongings and all three were dressed for the journey. Nadir ordered a carriage, and all four set off for the cemetery. There, the young couple and the boy got out to visit Gustave Daaé's tomb, while Nadir waited for them.

Erik was carrying Philippe in his left arm, while holding Christine's hand with his right one. They quickly made their way to the mausoleum. In front of the imposing building, Christine stopped. She first smiled at her husband and son, then walked up the stairs and put her hand on the wall of the mausoleum. "Papa," she whispered. "I bring you my family today. As you already know, I am now married to my Angel. I wanted to ask you to give us your blessing. And I also want to thank you. I may not have realized it right away, but you have chosen well for me. Erik may not be the angel I originally thought him to be, but I could not have found a better, more caring husband. It was stupid of me not to see that before. Philippe and I are in good hands with him. Thank you, my dear father."

Erik blushed. His hearing was better than that of most people, so he had understood what his wife had said. Had she just said he was the best husband she could imagine? And that she was sorry she had not realized that before? Was he imagining things? Was she just exaggerating because she was so relieved that he had freed her and Philippe from the de Chagnys? Or…. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed at the thought. Had she maybe, just maybe said that he was a better husband than Raoul?

Christine turned to him, smiling. "Do you want to say something to my father as well, Erik?" she asked. "After all, I used to remind him that he had promised to send me the Angel of Music, and then you…" she blushed. "I mean, it is possible, that he sent you to me, is it not?" Erik did not know if Gustave Daaé had sent him to protect his daughter, but he knew she was his destiny. He had waited for her all his life, and when he had finally found her, he had almost lost her. He had been given a second chance with her, and if it made her happy to think that her father had anything to do with their relationship, he would accept this.

He walked up the stairs to the mausoleum. "M. Daaé," he began. "We have never met, but I know your daughter very well. I am not sure you would see me as a good choice for a son-in-law, considering my past, but I promise you to be there for her always. I will try my very best to be a good husband and companion to Christine and a good father to your grandson." Christine grasped for his free hand and squeezed it. "I am sure my father is glad that we are finally together," she whispered. "I think he always wanted us to be." Erik's heart once again was filled with hope. He turned to his wife and they looked into each other's eyes for a few minutes, without talking. Then they walked back to the carriage, hand in hand.

Xxxx

The journey to Boscherville was uneventful. They had met the mayor at the station as planned and the four of them had shared a compartment. Philippe had been a bit restless during the journey, he was not used to being confined to one room and having to sit in somebody's lap all day, but Christine and Erik had taken turns holding him and talking to him, so the boy had not gotten too annoyed.

When they arrived in Boscherville, Marie Perrault was waiting for them. She hugged first Erik, then Christine, and finally insisted on carrying little Philippe. That way Erik could handle their bags and Christine could walk the short way to her future home. "I am so glad, you are all finally here," Marie said to them, tears in her eyes. "I only wish, Madeleine could be with us. She would have loved your family, Erik."

Erik nodded. He thought back to his first visit to Boscherville a few weeks ago, to his mother's letter, and he remembered that he had promised Madeleine he would forgive her for the way she had treated him as a boy, if she helped him to get Christine and Philippe safely away from the de Chagnys. Yesterday, he had finally been able to claim his family. Everything had turned out great. Christine and Philippe were safe and he would have them with him from now on, he would be able to care for them and provide for them, to pamper them and shower them with his love. He could not help but think that his parents' prayers might have helped him, just like Christine thought that her father had somehow brought them together. Whether or not this was true, the thought, that maybe their parents' love was watching over them and had had a hand in forging their relationship appealed to Erik.

"We were at your father's grave this morning to get his blessing," he told Christine. "Once we are home I will show you the picture of my parents, and we will ask them for their blessing as well." Christine beamed. "We should do this before we do anything else," she agreed. "Before we even unpack or you show me the rest of the house. After all, it was their house once, and I want to make sure that they accept me and that I am welcome there." Erik thought that he would have to show her his mother's letter as well. That passage of Madeleine hoping that her son would find a woman able to appreciate him and to see beyond his face would prove to Christine that she was the sort of daughter-in-law Madeleine would have wanted for her son.

Marie nodded as well. "Yes, Erik, introduce your new family to your parents," she said, before turning to Christine. "Madeleine would have loved you," she assured the young woman. "She would have loved your youth and beauty, your friendly, warm personality, but most of all, she would have loved you for the effect you have on that boy." Marie pointed at Erik, who was blushing once again. She giggled. "Just look at him," she told Christine, "you make him blush like a young girl, and I think he has even learned to smile!"

Christine looked at Erik, and blushed just as deeply as her husband. Marie sighed happily. Madeleine's boy had finally found love.

Xxxx

Once they reached the house, Marie handed Philippe back to his mother. She had wanted to welcome her godson and his family, but she knew that the couple needed some privacy now. She reminded Christine once again, that at Erik's orders she had seen to it, that the house was well stocked with food and other necessities, but should anything be amiss, she would be willing to help them out with whatever they might need, then she was gone.

Erik took out his keys and unlocked the front door. Then he looked at his wife. "Christine, it is the custom that a husband may carry his new bride over the threshold of their house, the first time she enters it," he said, looking at her expectantly. Would she allow him to do this? Christine smiled at him. "Can you carry both me and Philippe?" she asked. "If so, I would love for you to carry us over the threshold." Erik nodded. "Just hold the boy, the two of you don't weigh much, I can carry you both easily." With these words, he picked her up and carried his wife and child right into the dining room. He put them down in front of the picture of his parents.

"Father, mother," Erik said. "I bring you here your daughter-in-law and grandson. My wife's name is Christine and the boy is called Philippe. We hope for your blessing." Then he lowered his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "Thank you mother. I know that your prayers helped us win our battle against the Comte, and now that I have my family safe here, and that thanks to the fact that you left everything to me we now have a home here, I can finally forgive you."

Erik turned to Christine. "These are my parents," he explained. "This was their house, they were happy here, at least for a while. I know they welcome you here and they give us their blessings." He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out Madeleine's letter. "Read this," he told Christine, "and you will know that my mother would have been more than pleased with her daughter-in-law."

Christine took the letter, but before reading it, she looked at the picture of Erik's parents once more. "Your father," she finally said. "Erik, the family resemblance between you and him is incredible. You look almost like the same person." Erik nodded. "Yes, both Marie and Father Mansart thought at first that I was my father's spirit haunting them," he admitted. "Of course he did not need a mask."

Christine's heart broke at the desperation in her dear Angel's voice. "Look at me, Erik," she told him, smiling at him. "You do not need the mask either," she continued, reaching for the offensive object. "In fact, I don't think I want you to wear it inside our home. To me you are just as handsome as your father was, if not more so, for I know your heart." With these words, she pried the mask away from his beloved face and laid her hand on his deformed cheek. "I want to see my husband," she said.

Erik fought for his composure. Without his mask he felt exposed, naked, but the way Christine looked at him, looked at his deformity, made his heart swell with love for her. "Read my mother's letter," he finally managed to say, taking Philippe into his own arms so that she could read. Christine unfolded the piece of paper. After having read the first few words, tears started to well up in her eyes, and when she finished, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Poor Erik," she cried, "and poor, poor Madeleine! Oh my God, Erik, you never told me, she was in a situation similar to mine! Her husband dead, no hope left, and expecting a child. Erik, I was lucky, that I was nearing the end of my term when things got really bad for me, and then I had you to help me, otherwise…" she paled at the thought. "Otherwise I might have harmed Philippe as well."

Erik stared at her in shock. Only now that she had pointed it out, did he see the parallel between Christine's and Madeleine's situation. Christine's hand reached for his deformity again and tenderly caressed his sunken cheek. "I understand that you may wish this had not happened to you," she whispered, "and I bet, once she realized that your birth-defect may have been her fault, she blamed herself, but Erik, I know what it is like to be alone and without hope, I know how hard it is to keep going, especially when you are carrying a child and your future looks bleak. If I had reached that point of desperation when I was only three or four months along with my pregnancy, I probably would either have miscarried or seriously harmed my son as well."

Tears were streaming down Erik's face. He remembered how depressed and lifeless Christine had been last summer, even before she had learned of her husband's death, and before Théophile-Auguste had planned the attack on her life. Then he imagined his mother. Madeleine, expecting her first baby, when suddenly her beloved husband was taken from her. Charles had kissed his wife in the morning and smiled at her when he left the house to go to work, and a few hours later they had carried him home, dead and still, his body broken from the fall and covered in blood. And Madeleine only barely older than Christine was right now. He finally understood that he could not blame her for anything. Whether or not his deformity was caused by the shock she suffered at the loss of her husband or because she did not take care of herself afterwards, was irrelevant. Nobody could have expected her to act differently. As to her treatment of him as a child – Erik also could finally see that a handicapped child would have seemed like an additional blow to the woman who had already been through so much. All his bitterness dissolved under Christine's tender caress of his deformed face.

Erik smiled at his wife, tears still running down his cheeks. "Thank you," he whispered. "You have finally helped me to understand my mother. If I am truly able to forgive her for the way she treated me when I was a child, it is because of you." He wrapped his free arm around her, tears streaking down both their faces. "It took her a while to recover from her shock and depression," Christine whispered. "But once she did, she discovered that she loved you after all. That's why she left everything to you and wrote you this letter, to tell you. Marie was right. Your mother would have loved to be here with us today. She would be so proud of you, if she could see you now."


	35. Family

Chapter 34 – Family

Christine and Erik remained immobile in front of the picture of Erik's parents for a while, arms around each other, tears running down their faces, Philippe between them. Finally the baby got bored and began to cry as well. Both parents immediately looked at the child in shock. They felt bad for neglecting the little one. Christine took him into her arms, patting her son's back to comfort him. "What's the matter, Philippe?" she asked soothingly. "Is my little boy hungry? It has been a long day for you, has it not? But mummy and daddy will take care of you now," she cooed to the infant.

"Come Philippe," Erik continued, "I will show you and your mummy your new home, then we will feed you and bath you, and then you can go to sleep." As soon as the infant noticed that his parents were paying him attention, he calmed down and began to babble happily. "Eee, ow, aah," he shrieked, smiling at them. "Christine looked at her husband. "I think that means he likes your suggestion and he wants you to show us our new home," she interpreted for Erik. The latter nodded. He quickly went to the front door and took their bags in, which he had left outside when he had picked up his wife and Philippe to carry them over the threshold, then he returned to his family.

"I will show you the ground floor first," he explained, "that's where we will spend most of the daytime until it gets warm enough to be out in the garden." Christine had already seen the dining room, but there was also the cozy living room with the beautiful piano. Christine ran to the instrument, opened the lid and let her fingers glide over a few keys. The piano had a very pleasant, warm sound. "This is wonderful," she exclaimed, smiling at Erik. "Angel, we will be able to sing together and you can accompany us on the piano!" Erik nodded. "I knew, you would like that," he said. "I am kind of glad myself that I found the piano in such good condition," he added, "it is the instrument on which I learned to play as a little boy."

Christine's fingers once again brushed lovingly over the keys, imagining the boy Erik sitting in front of it and practicing his scales. "Can we sing?" she asked shyly. "Once we've put Philippe to bed? Oh Angel, you cannot imagine how much I have wanted to sing with you again!" Erik beamed. "Of course," he promised. "When we were working on your voice together last fall, I always hoped that one day I would be able to play and sing with you again." They looked at each other with anticipation. Music had always been an important element of their relationship and they had both missed a chance to play and sing together. "Things will be again like they used to be back at the Opera," they both thought, "only better."

Erik proceeded to show Christine the remainder of the ground floor. There was a small parlor, a well-equipped kitchen and a well-stocked pantry. Christine smiled. She had never had much of a chance to cook, but she was willing to learn. She was sure Marie would be only too willing to help her in the beginning. Maybe she could also tell her, what kind of food Erik had liked as a child. Christine was determined to be the best possible wife to her dear Angel.

After he had shown Christine everything there was to see on the ground floor, Erik took her upstairs to the bedrooms. He led her to the master bedroom first. He stopped, a bit nervous, in front of the door. "I hope you like this room," he said. "My father decorated it as a wedding gift for my mother and I left it unchanged, because it is just the way I would have done it myself, if I had to outfit a room for you," he explained, before opening the door.

Christine entered the room and looked around. She was speechless. The furniture was every bit as expensive and beautiful as it had been in her and Raoul's room at the de Chagny mansion, yet the room felt warmer somehow, cozier. She knew at once that she would feel at home here. She had to admit that these Chabrier-men were really special. To think that her Erik's father had outfitted this room for his young wife! There was so much attention to detail in this room, so much obvious desire to make his beloved comfortable. He must have loved Madeleine very much. Christine understood that losing him had hurt Madeleine badly. "I do not know what I would do, if I lost my Erik now," she thought by herself, shuddering at the thought.

"This room is marvelous," she finally whispered, taking in all the details. She already felt at home here. "I only added the bed for Philippe," Erik explained. "He is too small to sleep alone. But there also is a nursery for him, we can move him to when he is a bit older." Christine smiled at him. She truly had the most thoughtful husband in the world.

Erik cleared his throat. "The closet is full with dresses and other articles of clothing," he added nervously. True, he had promised to provide for her and the boy, but he suddenly was not too sure how she would take it that he had also bought stockings and undergarments for her. "Since I did not want you to take anything with you that was bought with de Chagny-money, I had to get new clothes for you and Philippe," he continued. "I hope you both like your new wardrobe."

Christine was unable to speak. Her Angel's loving care moved her to tears. Erik observed her nervously. She did not seem offended that he had chosen her dresses for her, but what about the garments of a more intimate nature? Christine finally regained her composure. "Thank you, Erik," she murmured. "I know you have excellent taste. I am sure the clothes will be perfect."

"I tried to get everything you need," Erik explained. He felt awkward. "Of course I am no expert in female undergarments, so if there is something I forgot…" his voice trailed and he looked at her, uncertain of her reaction. Christine blushed. Only now did she realize that Erik had apparently also bought everything she would be wearing underneath her new dresses. "I… I am sure you did okay," she stammered. Why did the thought that he had bought her lingerie make her so happy? Surely a lady's undergarments were no man's business? She had to admit to herself that the fact that her most intimate articles of clothing had been picked by her husband appealed to her in a way she had never thought possible. In her opinion it somehow brought the two of them even closer together.

"If you'd like to get changed…" Erik was looking for an excuse to leave her alone and lock himself up in his own room. How lovely she was! The conversation about undergarments had once again reminded him of the fact how irresistible she would look in these and how delicious it would feel to take those garments off her. His mind was assaulted with erotic pictures of Christine wearing nothing but those, smiling at him invitingly, and he felt his body reacting with desire for her.

Christine shook her head. She had not noticed his discomfort. "No, Angel," she said. "Not right now. Please show me the rest of the house first. Then we should feed Philippe and get him ready for bed. And I had thought…" now it was her turn to blush. "Maybe, once he is asleep, we could sing together?" Erik nodded. Showing her the house would take his mind off the erotic thoughts and help him regain his composure.

"Come with me, then," he said. "I'll show you the nursery next." After the nursery he showed her his mother's room, the room where he had been born, and where he would now sleep alone. Of course he did not tell her that he had chosen that dark, depressing room for himself. She had not really asked where he would sleep, so he guessed that fact was of little interest to her. He could not have been more wrong. Christine had not asked about his room, because she had assumed that he would sleep with her in the master bedroom. She had noticed that the bed there was wide enough for two people, and she was looking forward to sleeping in her Angel's arms.

Xxxx

Once Erik had shown Christine the whole house, they went downstairs and checked the pantry for food that would be suitable for Philippe. Christine mashed a banana for her son, and fed it to him. Erik watched them quietly, thinking how blessed he was to have a family – despite his face. A family that cared for him and trusted him, like every other man had.

The couple then bathed the boy and changed his diapers, then Christine put him in the new baby bed in the master bed room and hummed a lullaby to him. Soon the baby was fast asleep.

After Christine had prepared a few sandwiches for them for dinner, she led her husband to the piano in the living room. She rummaged through the bag she had brought with her and took out the album of songs he had composed and given to her as a Christmas present. "Please Erik," she begged. "I have dreamed for so long to sing those with you, to have you accompany me when I sing…" Erik nodded. He had hoped she would ask to sing these songs. After all, they conveyed all his feelings for her, the secret longing and desire, hidden underneath the lyrics which spoke of friendship and trust.

Erik sat down on the piano bench and played a few scales to warm up before starting the introduction to his first song. Christine barely recognized the song. She was not bad at playing the piano, but under Erik's skilled hands the music came to life in a totally new way. She suddenly sensed emotions in the piano part that she had never noticed before. The longing was now much more pronounced, and there was a hint of resignation in it, as well as some barely contained passion.

"He wrote those songs for me," Christine thought, "when we were separated during those long winter months. He missed me, me and my son, that's why the longing is so strong, and the resignation is there because he knew he would not be able to see us for a long time, but oh, how deep and passionate his love for us is…" She almost missed her cue. A bit uncertain at first, she started to sing the words which spoke of friendship and trust, while the piano continued to insinuate that there was something deeper between them. Inspired by Erik's interpretation of the song, Christine's voice began to express similar feelings of longing and passion, while the words she sang still were about friendship.

As they reached the end of the song, they looked at each other, both faces flushed with emotions, both fighting a turmoil of contradictory thoughts and feelings. "Love. Why do I think of love now?" Christine could not understand herself. She only knew that that song had shown her the depth of Erik's feelings for her and Philippe. Somehow those feelings were totally different from what she and Raoul had felt for each other, stronger, more meaningful. Was that love? Had she been mistaken, when she thought that she and Raoul were in love? Was love more than physical attraction and romantic ideas that girls giggled about? Erik's music had spoken of affection, trust, longing, tenderness, and something else, that she could not quite define, but she knew that his interpretation of this particular song had left her somewhat empty. She had the feeling as if there had been something in this music, something that she could not quite describe, but which she had greatly enjoyed. She wanted more of it, without exactly knowing what it was she wanted. She looked at Erik for guidance. Would he be able to explain this unknown feeling to her?

Erik was just as agitated as his wife. He had poured his soul into the performance of this song, all his love, his longing, his passion and his desperation that he could never truly be Christine's husband had been expressed in his playing. Had Christine noticed? Her own interpretation had been different too. Had she just mimicked his? Had her musical expertise allowed her to grasp the full meaning of the music and to bring out every nuance of longing and love he had written into this song? Or did she feel something for him after all?

"Erik, this was beautiful," Christine finally managed to say. "I did not know there was so much in this song. When you play the piano part, there suddenly is so much more emotion in it than when I tried to play it. I never knew this song could sound like that." Erik nodded. Her words confirmed his theory that she had picked up on his interpretation, suddenly realized the full potential of the music and given it her all to match his performance with her voice. "Serves you right, Erik," he scolded himself. "Don't get your hopes up. You knew from the beginning, that this was only a marriage of convenience. Be happy with what you get. You must be glad she accepted your help and trusts you enough to live with you."

"Do you want to sing something else?" Erik finally asked. Christine shook her head. She felt tired. It had been a long day. They had gotten up early and the train ride with the restless infant had been taxing. She also felt like she had been on an emotional roller-coaster, with her visit to her father's grave, Madeleine's letter, and now this song, which had awoken new thoughts and feelings in her that she did not quite understand. The most disconcerting of these new ideas being that maybe love was something totally different from what she had thought so far. She shook her head. She would not figure this out tonight. She was way too tired. All she wanted now was to take a hot bath and then go to bed, where she could finally sleep in her Angel's arms, where she belonged.

"I think I am too tired," she told Erik. "Aren't you tired as well? Maybe we should go to bed. We can sing some more tomorrow." She smiled. They would be able to sing and play together every day now. Christine knew that Erik had recently submitted a second volume of songs to Dubois & Suligny and she was anxiously awaiting the publication of these new songs. Erik had promised that he would get her a copy as soon as they became available.

Erik closed the piano and put the album of songs away. "Go ahead," he said. "You can use the bathroom first. I'll unpack my bag in the meantime." Christine went up to the bedroom and checked the drawers in the closet for a nightgown. She picked a particularly pretty one, of a creamy white color, with pink satin ribbons sewn around the neckline, the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves, then she made her way to the bathroom. She soaked in the hot tub, then dried herself off with the fluffy white towels she found in the bathroom and put on the new nightgown that her Angel had bought for her. One look into the mirror confirmed that the gown fit extremely well. "I wonder how he knows my size," Christine thought briefly, but then, she reminded herself that the wedding dress he had forced her to wear the night of "Don Juan" had fit her perfectly as well. Erik apparently had an eye for such things.

She looked into the mirror again. What would he think of her when he saw her wearing the new nightgown? Would he find her pretty? Not for the first time Christine realized that her appearance suddenly mattered to her. She wanted to look as pretty as possible for Erik.

On her way back to the master bedroom she met her husband, who was carrying his now empty bag to the little storage room at the end of the corridor. "I am finished in the bathroom," she told him. "You can take your bath now." She blushed a bit. "Once you are done, would you mind helping me with my hair again?" Erik fidgeted. Christine looked like temptation personified. The nightgown was not really revealing and the material was not too flimsy. Yet her curves showed with her every movement and his body ached with desire. But could he really deny her such an innocent request? Deny himself the pleasure of losing himself in her luxurious curls once again? He did not have that strength. "Take what you can get," he told himself. "If you cannot have the woman herself, content yourself with brushing her hair."

He forced a smile on his face. "Of course I will help you," he promised. Christine's radiant smile was all he needed to convince himself that he was a lucky man after all.

Erik quickly bathed and put on his black silk pajamas and his robe, then he knocked on Christine's door. She let him in, thinking that he looked dashing in dark silk, and sat down in front of the dressing table. Erik picked up one of the beautiful brushes and started his work. Christine smiled happily. Life was finally good for her. She would never be alone again.

Once Erik had braided Christine's curls, he bid her good night and made his way towards the door. Christine gasped. Where was he going? Surely he would not leave her now?

"Angel," she whispered, almost scared. "What are you doing? Are you not staying with me?" Erik gazed at her. "I promised you this would be a marriage in name only," he uttered, hoping against hope that she might have changed her mind. Christine smiled. "So what?" she asked. "It does not mean that we have to do certain things, just because we are sleeping in the same bed." Erik's heart almost stopped beating with shock. Did she really expect him to sleep by her side without touching her? Did she even realize what she was asking of him? One look into her dark eyes confirmed his suspicion. She was totally unaware of the effect she had on him, but her trust in him was endless. He also saw the loneliness at the bottom of her eyes and understood that she needed him, needed somebody to hold her and comfort her, and make her forget all the terrible things she had experienced in the past two years.

He nodded. "If you want me with you, I will stay," he uttered. "And Heaven help me I will not betray your trust," he thought, lying down next to her. Christine snuggled up to him. "Do you remember when we slept together in that inn last summer?" she asked. "When we got married, I knew I wanted that again, I wanted to sleep in your arms and to wake up next to you." Erik sighed. Nadir had been right. He must have been out of his mind when he offered Christine this marriage in name only. For the first time since their wedding he was thinking that maybe his promise would be considerably harder to keep than he had imagined.


	36. Longing

Chapter 35 – Longing

Erik woke up first the next morning. He found Christine's head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped around his waist. Her features were relaxed, and she looked even younger than her barely nineteen years. A smile seemed to play across her lips, the sign of a happy dream. Erik could not turn his eyes away from his young wife. He loved her so much. Her beauty and the closeness of her body aroused him, while the innocence of her relaxed, sleeping face helped him to keep his own urges in check. Yes, he wanted her more than anything, and it would be heaven to … He closed his eyes to clear his mind of the erotic fantasies assaulting him. No, he would not betray her trust. He would content himself with what she was willing to give. After all, brushing her hair, singing with her, and waking up with her in his arms was more than he had thought possible only a year ago.

His lips reverently brushed over her curls, careful not to wake her. Erik did not want to scare Christine with his caresses. He was not going to risk losing her trust, which was the next-best thing in his opinion, since he could not have her love.

Christine stirred in his arms and finally her beautiful, large eyes opened and met his. A warm smile spread over her face and she snuggled even closer to him. "My Angel," she sighed happily. "I had feared I might only have dreamed it that we are finally together." Erik had to fight his raging hormones. He could feel every movement of her soft, feminine curves against his body, with only the two thin layers of his pajamas and her nightgown between them. The sweet innocence of her eyes and voice helped him to compose himself. He managed to return her smile. "You will never be alone again," he promised. "I will always be there for you and Philippe." Her tiny hand moved to the right side of his face, gently caressing his mangled flesh. "I know that, Angel," she whispered, "and it makes me very happy." Erik blushed as he noticed the adoration in her eyes, and his stupid heart once again beat faster, full of hope that maybe, one day, she might learn to love him.

Xxxx

After breakfast Erik took his new family out to show them the garden. It was of course much smaller than the one at the de Chagny mansion, but there was enough open space for a little boy to play, it was large enough that they could sit outside once it would get warmer, there was a corner where a few vegetables were growing and Erik had planted a few rosebushes. Christine was overwhelmed. The house was perfect. It was everything she had ever wanted her home to be. What had been missing when he inherited the house from his mother, her Angel had added. She and Philippe would be every bit as comfortable here as they had been at the de Chagny-mansion. Even more so, Christine thought, because here, the loving care of her dearest Angel enveloped them, while there, the icy atmosphere had made them freeze.

Xxxx

The first few days at their house went by fairly quickly for the young couple. With Marie's advice Christine soon developed a talent for cooking, and Erik began to joke that they'd both get fat if she continued to prepare such delicious food. The two of them cared for Philippe together, sang and played the piano together, and tried to get used to the new situation that they now were a family. Both of them thought that it was like a miracle that they were finally together, both of them relished each other's company, while secretly hoping for more.

As much as Erik enjoyed the fact that Christine now regularly slept in his arms, he also had to admit that the intimacy of this sleeping arrangement did put a strain on him. He was torn between two contradictory urges: his passion and need for her grew exponentially with every night spent in her bed, but so did his determination to protect her, even against his own bodily needs.

Christine, on the other hand, sensed her heart full of tenderness for her husband, and she was showing him her affection now more openly. She had insisted that Erik should not wear the mask when they were alone. Even when Marie paid the a visit, he had to take it off. Only when they left the house or when the young woman, who helped Christine with the cleaning, was there, was he allowed to hide behind his mask. Christine knew that at first Erik felt exposed and vulnerable without this protective layer, but she was determined to prove to him that his deformity did not matter. Marie supported her in this endeavor. Both women thought that it would do Erik a lot of good to finally accept himself, deformity and all. Christine had soon discovered that tenderly moving her fingers over Erik's deformed cheek made him more willing to keep his mask off – so that she would have access to his sunken cheek, should she feel like caressing it again.

Christine could not understand anymore how she could once have been disgusted by Erik's face. It was part of him, part of what made him who he was. The experiences he had made based on other people's reactions to his disfigurement had shaped him and turned him into the person he was. She knew that by caressing the deformed part of his face, she not only showed him that she accepted him despite this flaw, but she also helped him to accept himself. She would have loved to place gentle kisses on his mangled flesh, but something always held her back. Even though a kiss to the cheek was nowhere near as intimate as a real kiss on the lips, Christine forced herself not to give in to this urge to touch his deformed face with her mouth. She had been the first one to initiate a kiss once before. She would not do so again. Even though they were now properly married, Christine somehow felt that Erik should be the one to start any kissing. Once he had kissed her, nothing would keep her from kissing him back, mouth and cheek, but after a few days in their new home, she was still waiting for Erik's first kiss.

Christine was getting nervous. Why did her Angel not kiss her? Surely he had enjoyed their kisses the night of "Don Juan". She had felt his response and something wonderful, almost magical had passed between them then. She wanted this feeling again. She wanted Erik's lips on hers, his tongue meeting hers, and more than once was she tempted to forget about her principles and kiss him first, like she had done two years ago. She blushed at that thought. What if he had a reason not to kiss her? She could not think of any, but then, her Angel had always been a very complex person and she did not always understand him. This had not really changed when they got married. So there was this disconcerting possibility that maybe Erik did not kiss her, because for some reason or other he did not want to. If this was the case and she forced herself onto him… Christine was embarrassed at her thoughts. No, she could not risk that. All she could do was wait patiently for Erik to finally kiss her.

Xxxx

About a week after they had moved to Boscherville, Erik's second album of songs arrived in the mail and Christine eagerly began studying the new songs, accompanied by Erik on the piano and helped by his advice. Her voice developed marvelously. Erik's teaching enabled her to perfect her technique, while the uncertainty in her heart, her growing love for her Angel, her longing for his kiss, her fear that he might not find her as attractive anymore as he used to and therefore did not want to kiss her, all those various emotions fighting in her chest, brought a maturity and depth to her interpretation that surprised even Erik.

Hearing her bring his songs to life so beautifully had an unexpected effect on Erik. He knew he should have been happy that somebody was able to express the feelings he had written into his music as perfectly as she did. He should also have been proud of her, his student, since her progress as a musician was incredible. But deep inside he wished, she would not only convey the feelings of love and longing, but actually experience them – and that those feelings would be directed at him. There were days when her singing gave him hope, when he thought it was impossible to sing like that without actually understanding love and longing. But then he remembered that she had been married before. What if she did feel love, but it was directed at her dead husband? What if she did experience longing, but she longed for Raoul's presence and his touch? After all, he reminded himself, she had not wanted to get married again, which in Erik's opinion clearly indicated that she did want to remain faithful to the father of her child.

When his reasoning reached this particular conclusion, Erik always got in a bad mood. He was angry at himself then for dreaming and hoping, reminding himself that a hideous creature like himself had not the same rights as normal people, that it was preposterous of him to expect an angel like Christine to return his feelings. When Erik was in that kind of mind frame he sometimes even doubted Christine's friendship. "She only clings to me because she needs me," he thought then. "She would never have married me if there had been another way to get away from the Comte."

When this mood passed, he concentrated on the positive side of their situation. After all, she had accepted his help, she did trust him and she was grateful. He could not deny this. It was not Christine's fault that he would have wanted so much more. He even admitted that she treated him better than almost anybody had ever treated him before in his life, with the possible exceptions of Antoinette and Nadir, Marie and Father Mansart. That did not change the fact, though, that he wanted to be her husband in every sense of the word, not just in name only.

Xxxx

Marie Perrault was a regular guest in the Chabrier-household. She loved her godson dearly and had opened her heart to Christine and Philippe almost at once. She had known Erik as a child and understood him probably better than anybody else, including Christine. She therefore noticed fairly soon that there was a certain tension between the young couple. Even when both were relaxed and calm, Marie could sense something like a barrier between husband and wife. She never for a second doubted that they both were head over heels in love with one another, no, the secret glances between the newly-weds were proof enough that their hearts were bound together for all eternity, but something was not quite right yet between them.

She was not sure, though, what the problem could possibly be. She noticed that the two relished each other's touch, she had seen more than once how their hands were searching each other, and she noticed how both of them blushed when the other one said something even remotely sounding like praise about them. True, she had not actually seen them kiss, but then she knew that some couples preferred to have some privacy when they exchanged such intimacies.

Then Erik's new songs arrived and a few days later the couple finally agreed to perform a few of these for Marie. Marie had longed for quite a while to hear one of Erik's compositions. Since she knew how much money the boy made with those songs she thought they must be rather good. She also had never heard Christine sing. She therefore had asked the couple repeatedly to let her listen to some of their music.

At first both, Erik and Christine, had been reluctant to do so. Ever since the first evening together in their home they had both felt as if what they shared when they sang and played together was rather intimate and did not bear the presence of an outsider. They had excused themselves, first pretending that they had not had time to rehearse yet, what with moving in and getting used to their new situation as a family, then they had asked to be granted some time to study the new songs together, but finally Marie had not accepted their excuses any longer.

"Erik, dear," she had told her godson, "I know you are a perfectionist, but I am not much of a musician. I like music, but I wouldn't know if anything were slightly off. Supposedly everybody in Paris knows these songs of yours by now, don't you want your old godmother to hear them as well and be proud of your achievement? Please, let me hear your compositions." After those words Erik could not deny her any longer. He moved over to the piano and Christine followed him. He gave her a questioning glance and Christine nodded. She knew which song he would play. No further communication between them was needed.

Erik began the introduction and Marie suddenly sat very still. His love, his passion for his wife was very obvious in every note he played, but there was something else, a desire, a hunger, an unfulfilled longing. She was confused. When had he written that song? Years ago, when he had had no hope to win Christine's heart? She did not think so, after all, the album had been published only a few months ago. Surely by then he must have at least hoped that Christine might return his feelings? But even if he had still had doubts, if his longing for her had still been so strong, when he wrote that song, how come he could convey the feeling so perfectly now, when Christine was finally his? Was he basing his performance on memory?

Then Christine started to sing, her voice pure and clear like none other Marie had ever heard. Strangely enough, though, her singing, too, conveyed a wealth of tenderness and love, and a deep, unfulfilled longing. While Erik's interpretation contained a hint of hopelessness and resignation, her longing was full of hope, of uncertainty, or even curiosity, as if she were not too sure herself what exactly it was she longed for. Marie sighed. She thought she understood now. Apparently these two had not been intimate yet, the hunger and passion Erik had expressed, made it clear to her that he wanted nothing more than to make love to his wife. Then why hadn't he done so already? Marie could not imagine Christine denying him his rights as a husband. After all, her singing had been full of longing as well.

Erik seemed to think that the situation was hopeless, hence the quiet resignation in his playing. Marie shook her head. He could not possibly still believe that his face made him somehow less of a man, unworthy of a beautiful wife like Christine. After all, the young woman made him take off the mask when they were alone and she never seemed to miss an opportunity to show Erik that she cared for him deeply, deformity and all. Marie had seen Christine caress Erik's disfigured cheek. Her fingers had moved so gently over his mangled flesh and she had looked at him so lovingly.

What else could keep these two apart? Marie thought about Erik's past. Did he think his past crimes were standing between him and Christine? Did he feel like he would contaminate her with the atrocities he had committed if he made her truly his? Marie was not sure how much of Erik's past Christine really knew, but the young woman definitely was aware of the fact that her husband had killed Buquet and Piangi and injured lots of people by crashing the chandelier on the audience and starting the fire at the Opera Populaire. It was also clear to Marie that Christine had forgiven him these crimes, had somehow found extenuating circumstances for his actions, and that the young woman loved Erik anyway.

Her thoughts returned to Christine's singing. She had felt the longing there as well, equally strong as in Erik's playing, but there had also been a certain uncertainty, as if Christine did not really know herself, what it was she longed for. Could it really be that Christine desired her husband but was not quite aware of the fact? Marie could not really imagine such a scenario. After all, Christine had been married before, she even had a child. Unlike Erik, she was no virgin anymore. If either, it should be her to know what to expect, what she wanted, desired, not him. But strangely enough, it seemed to be Erik, who had absolutely no previous experience with marital relationships, to know exactly what he wanted and what he was currently missing, while Christine's attitude had all the innocence and inexperience of an untouched girl, even though her longing was just as strong as Erik's.

Marie shook her head. She could not quite figure out this unusual situation. She only knew that these two were burning with the same fire, longing for fulfillment, but somehow they did not realize each other's need. Should she talk to them about this? She was not sure Erik would take such an interference well. After all, his temper had not changed since he was a boy. And Christine? Marie did not know her well enough yet to dare approach such a delicate subject with her. Marie finally decided to wait a few more weeks. Maybe all these two needed was some time to sort out their feelings for each other. Maybe all that was necessary to set things right between them was for Erik to summon the courage to kiss his wife passionately and she would beg him to make love to her.


	37. Advice

Chapter 36 – Advice

After a few weeks, the constant need to suppress his desire started taking its toll on Erik. He became irritated and subject to mood swings. When he felt like he would not be able to restrain himself any longer, he would storm out of the room and either lock himself up in his mother's old room, or go to the nearby stable, saddle César and take off in a wild ride across the countryside. Once he had calmed down, he would return to Christine, contrite and feeling guilty for having her scared so much with his temper. He would then beg for her forgiveness, tears in his eyes, promising he would never again leave her like that, without an explanation.

Christine always forgave him. She somehow sensed that he did not behave like that on purpose. Obviously something was driving him from her side on occasion, but she knew he would always come back to her. It frightened her to see him race over the fields with César, and she always prayed for his safe return when he had taken off with the horse. Since she had no explanation for her Angel's erratic behavior, she began to fear that he might be ill. What if he was suffering from a nervous fever again? She was not quite certain what symptoms someone suffering from that disease would exhibit, but elevated body temperature certainly would have to be expected, and whenever she touched her husband, his temperature seemed normal to her.

But if he was not ill, what else could cause his strange behavior? Did he regret having married her? Did he not love her anymore? Was there somebody else? Sometimes, when Erik suddenly stiffened under her caresses, closed his eyes as if he did not want to see her and then ran off, she was convinced that he loathed her. But when he returned his eyes always looked at her with so much love and tenderness, pleading with her to forgive him, and when she gave in, only too happy, to have him back, he would hug her and caress her and hold her in his arms, telling her that he was the luckiest man in this world to have such a wonderful wife.

Christine also knew that Erik hardly slept anymore. He tried to hide it from her, but even in her sleep she sensed him leaving her side. He usually went down to the living room and spent half the night in front of the piano, writing new songs. When Christine came down in the morning, he pretended having gotten up only a short while ago, but the number of pages he had filled with new songs clearly proved that was not the case, while the songs that he now composed were the most tragic, depressed ones he had written so far, still full of tenderness and love, but full of resignation and despair.

Xxxx

Erik knew that he was approaching madness. Not in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that living in close quarters with his beloved Christine could be such utter torture. The more he was around her, the more his need for her grew, and the longer he had to go on without the desired release, the more difficult it got for him to restrain himself. Using his hand for relief of his discomfort had proved to be of little use. The longer they stayed together, the more often he held her in his arms, the stronger his urge to make passionate love to her became. It was possible to fight this need for a while by thinking of something else, but soon his body would react to the ever constant stimulation of Christine's presence and a bulge in his trousers would betray his state of arousal. In that case he usually stormed out of the room without an explanation, anxious to escape before Christine could notice his problem. Surely if she realized how much his body ached for her, she would not want to be around him any longer. She would fear that he would not be able to keep his promise and that he would take her one day against her will to satiate his desire. And even though living with her without touching her had proved to be almost unbearable for him, the thought of losing her, of not being able to see her regularly anymore frightened him even more.

When he had calmed down enough that he was able to face her again, he always felt like a monster. The strong affection and worry in Christine's eyes told him that his behavior had frightened her, that she was concerned about his health, or rather his mental well-being, and that she deeply cared for him, even though his abrupt departure had hurt her. The fact that even after repeated such accidents she still forgave him and treated him with the same old trust and tenderness, made him happy in a way, but it also made him doubt Christine's sanity. "She should run away from me," he thought, "as fast as she can and as far away as possible. I do not know how much longer I will be able to keep her safe."

Xxxx

This situation had gone on for almost a month. Erik was beginning to lose weight and Christine was convinced now that he must suffer from some strange disease. Erik defied all her attempts to make him consult a doctor, though, trying to convince her that all he needed was some rest. He knew that a doctor would not be able to help him, since there was only one medicine in the whole world that could save him from his pitiful condition, and only Christine would be able to give it to him.

Erik's refusal to see a doctor made Christine even more nervous. Why would he not want to get help? Was there something she did not know? Was he beyond help and knew it? She was worried sick about her husband and the thought that she might lose him when they had only recently gotten together troubled her more every time he seemed to be in prey of one of his strange attacks. She would have gone to Marie for advice, but unfortunately, the old lady had gone to Paris to visit her dear Francine whose baby and stepchildren had come down with the measles. Christine knew that Marie would not be able to come home until all the kids were well again and there was no danger of her passing on the disease to Philippe or other children in Boscherville.

Christine had not really made any other friends in her new hometown yet. Erik's reluctance to meet new people had certainly had something to do with this, but Christine herself had been too happy to finally be with her Angel, that she had not needed anybody else. Of course she had talked to other women at the grocery store and she had introduced herself to the new parish priest, the successor of Father Mansart, and of course she knew the mayor. But neither of these acquaintances seemed to be the right person to discuss her worry about Erik with. If only Marie had been here, or her surrogate mother. Christine sat up straight. Mme. Giry! Why hadn't she thought about her sooner? Mme. Giry knew Erik very well, and during her time as ballet mistress she had come across all sorts of problems and diseases, and unlike Marie, Mme. Giry could be here within a few days, if she wrote her a letter and asked her to come. Meg would have to stay behind, since she had taken on a new job as ballet instructor in a school, but maybe this was for the best. As much as Christine loved her surrogate sister, she would be in the way if Christine wanted to confide her worries to Mme. Giry.

As soon as she had decided to invite the former ballet mistress, she relaxed. Antoinette Giry would certainly be able to help her and maybe save her dear husband from whatever ailment it was that affected him so badly. She ran into the living room, where Erik was sitting at the piano. She went up behind him, put her hands on his shoulders and laid her head on top of his. Erik closed his eyes, relishing the physical closeness of his wife, his body very aware of her breasts slightly touching his back. He was grateful that he was holding a few sheets of staff paper on which he had been scribbling some corrections, and which now hid his body's reaction to her gentle touch from her eyes.

"Angel," she whispered to him pleadingly, "will you allow me to invite Mme. Giry to come here for a few days? Marie is stuck in Paris indefinitely and I need somebody to help me become the good housewife I want to be for you." Erik thought by himself that he could not care less whether or not she was able to iron his shirts to perfection or prepare the best mousse au chocolat in all of France, that there was really only one thing he wanted – needed - from her, that being the only thing she was not able or willing to give him. But he had no objections to inviting Antoinette. He hoped that her presence might diffuse the tension between him and Christine a bit and thus make it easier for him to deal with his predicament. Christine hugged him to thank him for his permission to invite the older woman and went to write to her.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was very alarmed when she received Christine's letter. There were traces of tears on the piece of paper and the words Christine had written sounded desperate. Christine feared that something was terribly wrong with Erik, but he refused to get medical help and Christine was worried sick about him. Apparently he was behaving strangely and putting his health at risk with wild rides on César. Mme. Giry immediately wrote back to expect her the next day and started packing her bag.

Xxxx

When Mme. Giry arrived at the Boscherville train station, the young couple was waiting for her. Erik was carrying Philippe and talking to the baby, which somewhat helped him get his mind off the desirable woman at his side who despite being his by law would never allow him to bed her.

As soon as Mme. Giry got off the train, Erik handed the boy to Christine to help Antoinette with her bag. His hands barely touched Christine's when she took her son from his arms, but this was enough to send waves of longing through his body. Christine's attention was focused on Philippe and the arrival of her motherly friend, so she did not notice, but Mme. Giry had been alerted by Christine's letter that something seemed wrong with Erik, so she observed him closely. This small incident had told her all she needed to know about her male protégé. She smiled. During her days at the Opera Populaire she had seen many men in various states of arousal, desperate to reach fulfillment with one particular woman. Erik displayed all the symptoms of that same condition, except his body seemed to react to Christine more strongly than she had ever seen any other man react to the object of their desire. That fact did not come as a surprise to her. She knew that Erik was a virgin, that he had never been with a woman before, so it was only natural that his needs, which he had repressed for so long, manifested themselves so strongly now that he finally had his Christine with him.

"I do not know why they have not consummated their marriage yet," she thought by herself, "I would have thought they'd have figured it out by now that they are madly in love with each other, but this is a situation that's easy to rectify. I will have to give Christine a few hints how to save this stupid boy's sanity."

Xxxx

Once they arrived at the house, Erik deposited Mme. Giry's bag in one of the guest rooms, then excused himself, saying he had to look after César. Christine's eyes widened in shock. "Please, Angel, don't ride him today," she begged. Erik promised he'd just groom the horse and be back in about an hour.

As soon as he had left the room, Christine put Philippe down on the carpet and threw herself into Mme. Giry's waiting arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "He has been like that for weeks," she cried, "he runs off without a reason and does not return for hours. If it were not so obvious that he is devoted to me I would think he regrets having married me and is secretly seeing somebody else."

Mme. Giry led the young woman to the bed and made her sit down. "Shh," she tried to calm Christine. "Don't worry, I am sure all will be well soon," she murmured. Christine looked up at her. "So you have an idea what's wrong with him? Why he acts so strangely? Can you help him? Will he be fine?" Mme. Giry smiled. "Yes, he will be fine. But you will have to be the one to help him." Christine nodded eagerly, radiant with relief. "What must I do?" she asked, "tell me, there is nothing I would not do if it helps my dear Erik."

Mme. Giry cleared her throat. It was obvious that Christine had spoken the truth and that she loved Erik. Yet the subject she had to discuss now was of a rather intimate, delicate nature. How would Christine react to her next question? "Christine, you have been married before," she began cautiously. "You know what happens between husband and wife in their wedding night." Christine's eyes widened, and there was a look of utter terror in those beautiful orbs, when she looked at Mme. Giry. Sudden understanding hit the older woman. Apparently Christine was disgusted at the thought of marital relations and feared nothing more than intimacy. Erik, ever the gentleman, must have somehow realized that and was now desperately trying, though with very little success, to repress his own needs for her sake. Small wonder he was so tense.

Mme. Giry sighed. The situation was more complex than she had expected. "You do not like those activities," she stated flatly. Christine nodded. "It is humiliating, invasive," she explained. "I am so glad Erik promised me we would not have to do these things, even if we got married." Mme. Giry was shocked. That idiot! How could he make such a promise! And how on earth could she convince Christine that she had to release him from this promise? Obviously Raoul had not been able to make his wife enjoy intimacy and Christine therefore was disgusted by the whole process of lovemaking. While Mme. Giry was convinced that Erik would be able to make her forget whatever negative experiences Christine had had in that regard with her first husband, it would not be easy to make her understand that she would have to give Erik this chance. Soon. Before he broke down completely.

"Why did he promise you that?" Mme. Giry inquired. "Did you ask him for this promise?" Christine shook her head. "No. I just told him that I did not want to get married again, and then Erik asked me, but what if it were a marriage in name only, and then he said that he would not ask anything of that nature of me, and I said that I would like such a marriage." Mme. Giry closed her eyes to be able to concentrate better on the problem at hand. Of course under these circumstances Erik would never ask his wife to release him from his promise. Christine would have to make the first move.

"Christine," she began cautiously. "You know that Erik loves you very much." Christine smiled happily. Yes, she knew that. "And I think you do love him as well," Mme. Giry continued. Christine looked up, startled. Did she love Erik? "I do not know," she whispered. "I thought I was in love with Raoul, but Erik… this is totally different," she added. "Erik understands me better than anybody else, he is always there for me, helping me, protecting me, and he means so much to me. When Erik is with me it is like the sun is shining brighter, and when he is gone, I anxiously wait for his return. When he holds me in his arms, I feel at home, when I sleep in his arms, I know that I am where I belong. Is that love?" Mme. Giry cringed at the confession that Christine slept in Erik's arms. Was that stupid girl not aware what kind of torture she had imposed on her husband? But she nodded at Christine, smiling. "That does sound like love," she admitted.

Christine beamed as sudden realization hit her. She loved Erik! That's why she had always felt like she belonged with him, that's why it felt so right to be in his arms, that's why it had felt so right to kiss him, and why she longed so much for his kiss. "I think I do love Erik," she smiled. "But I never knew. I thought we were just friends." Mme. Giry sighed, relieved. At least Christine finally admitted her love for her husband.

"Since you love him," she continued slowly, "you will have to release Erik from his promise. You will have to allow him to really be your husband." Christine paled at the thought and was about to interrupt her surrogate mother, when Mme. Giry shushed her. "No, Christine, hear me out. I know you hate such activities, but not two men are the same. If Raoul was not able to make you enjoy the experience, Erik might be. Give him the chance. He does love you, I know he will be gentle with you and as considerate as a man can be of his woman's needs. Trust him." Christine looked unconvinced. "Tell him why you did not want to marry again. Otherwise he may not understand your reasons. Talk to him, say you are willing to give it a try because you love him." She paused for effect.

"He needs this, Christine," she finally said. "He has never been with a woman before, and while it was relatively easy for him to repress his needs when there was nobody he would have wanted to get intimate with, now that he has you around every day, this has been getting increasingly more difficult. He is obviously torn between his desire to make you fully his and his promise to you. He is under a lot of stress and pressure because of you." She gave Christine a meaningful look. "Only you can help him."


	38. Love

Chapter 37 – Love

Christine clung to Mme. Giry. "I am such a selfish woman," she sobbed. "Erik always thinks of me first and he has done so much for me, and I…" Tears streamed down her face and heavy sobs shook her body. Mme. Giry held her in her arms and tried to comfort her. "Now that you know the problem, all will be fine soon," the older woman whispered. "Just don't make him wait any longer." Christine shuddered inwardly. She knew she would have to do it that very evening, she owed it to her Angel to allow him to … But the thought of a man – even if it was her dear Angel, who certainly would try to make the whole experience as little embarrassing for her as possible – the thought of him thrusting into her was enough to make her dread what she would have to do.

Mme. Giry seemed to think that Erik might be able to make her enjoy this activity, but Christine knew that it would be awkward at best, probably more like humiliating and utterly embarrassing, and to think that she would have to actually offer her body to Erik so that he could satisfy his need that way… Then she thought of Erik, how he had always been there for her, helped her, saved her. What had she done to thank him for all his love? How could she even think of the discomfort this would cause her when he was under so much stress? If Mme. Giry was right that he needed this, then she could not deny him any longer. She sighed. She had known this was something men enjoyed and Raoul had tried to convince her that he needed to do this on a fairly regular basis, so why had it not occurred to her that it might also be important to Erik?

It took a while for Christine to calm down, but after a while her sobbing stopped. Mme. Giry smiled at her. "Don't worry," she told her surrogate daughter. "You will be fine. Both of you, I promise. Just remember that you love Erik." Christine nodded bravely. "Tonight," she whispered. "Since I love him, I will have to endure this." Mme. Giry hugged her. There was no point repeating a few more times that marital relationships were something quite enjoyable for a woman, since after her previous experiences in that regard, Christine was not going to believe her until Erik showed her otherwise.

Xxxx

Erik came home from the stables just in time for dinner. He was too busy fighting his own desire to notice that Christine was overly nervous. Spending a few hours caring for his horse had not really helped him get over his most basic need to make love to his beautiful young wife. Mme. Giry was therefore the only one of the three who enjoyed the meal. She observed her two protégés closely. Erik was a mess. This situation had gone on for far too long. She was impressed that he had been able to keep his promise for that long, considering his condition. Christine on the other hand was obviously trying to build up courage for what was to come. Her mind, her memories told her to expect the worst, while her subconscious obviously longed for Erik's touch just as much as he yearned for hers. Mme. Giry was confident that within a few hours all would be well between those two.

After dinner, Mme. Giry did not have to pretend that she was tired. The train ride and the highly emotional conversation with Christine had been exhausting and she was looking forward to a good night's sleep. When she retired to her room, she prayed that Christine would follow her lead and go to bed soon as well, asking her Angel to join her.

Once the two of them were alone, Christine summoned all her courage and faced her husband. How pale he was, how weary he looked. Her heart went out to him and she promised herself that she would do anything, endure anything to get this pressure off him. How could she selfishly think of herself when her Erik was suffering so much?

Christine went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I am tired as well, Angel," she said quietly, "and you look like you could need some rest, too. Let's go to bed!" she begged him. Erik closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He did not think he would be able to spend even the short period of time at her side till she would be asleep and he could slip out of the room. His need for her was getting stronger every day. "Go ahead," he rasped. "I am not that tired, I will join you later," hoping she would go to bed and leave him to his misery.

Christine insisted. "Angel," she pleaded with him. "I can see that you are exhausted. You have not slept well in days. Your health is at risk. Please promise that you will follow me in twenty minutes at the latest." Erik looked at her. She seemed so determined, and yet somehow on edge. It obviously was extremely important to her to get him to bed right now. Was she really that worried about him? He sighed. He knew that he could not deny her anything when she looked at him like that, he would have to endure the torture of holding her in his arms once more. He would fight his body and make sure he would not disgrace himself and break his promise by kissing her or making love to her. He nodded, unable to speak.

Xxxx

Christine went ahead, picked up her nightgown and changed in the bathroom. The closer the moment she dreaded came, the more nervous she got. "I have to do this for Erik," she kept repeating to herself. "I have to be there for him, when he needs me." She was once again rehearsing the words she would say to him, reminding herself that she could not betray her fear. He would never take her up on her offer if he realized how scared she was at the mere thought of the activity.

When she was finished in the bathroom, she headed to their bedroom. Her hair was not brushed yet, but Christine did not really care. She was very tense and she felt weak. She sat down on the bed, nervously waiting for Erik and steeling herself for the unpleasant procedure she was about to submit herself to. She heard Erik come up the stairs a few minutes later. He would not spend much time in the bathroom. Soon he would enter the room and then she would have to act.

Xxxx

While in the bathroom, Erik had tried to get his body under control with the help of his hand, but once he entered their bedroom, he knew this had been of little use. The sight of his wife sitting on the bed, wearing one of her pretty nightgowns that he had bought for her, blushing deeply when their eyes met, was enough to fill his body with desire again. He quickly sat down on his side of the bed, facing away from her to hide his condition from her, but Christine had noticed. Now that she was aware of her Angel's problem she had furtively glanced at him and noticed the sudden bulge in his pajama pants.

"Mme. Giry is right," Christine thought, "he does need this. Raoul always looked that way when he wanted to relieve himself by using my body. I have to be strong for him." She turned towards Erik, putting her hand on his shoulder. A sharp intake of breath showed her how deeply affected Erik was by her touch. His discomfort gave her courage. "Angel," she whispered. "I know we said marriage in name only, but.. " she hesitated. "It is okay, if we do it." She exhaled deeply, glad that she had found the strength to tell him. Erik quickly turned around and faced her.

"Christine, please," he rasped. "Don't play games with me. I know that you did not want to get married, that you did not want to have marital relations with anybody ever again, and that that includes me." She nodded. "It is true, Angel, that I did not want to. I do not really like this… activity," she added shyly. "But I know that it is important for you men, and that you need to do this in regular intervals." She blushed deeply, pointing at his bulging pants. "When Raoul was like this, he always told me he needed relief. I can see that you need it too, but you are not going to ask me, since you promised me the marriage in name only." Erik looked at her, barely able to stay in control of his conflicting emotions. "Christine, you have no obligation whatsoever towards me," he mumbled. "And I do not want you to do this out of pity of my condition. I am deeply ashamed that I could not hide my problem from you, since you have obviously guessed it."

Christine trembled. "I do not pity you, Angel," she whispered. "I feel so bad that I have withheld relief from you for so long. Really, it is okay. If I could do it for Raoul, I can certainly do it for you." Her fear was suddenly gone. Erik's reluctance to take her up on her offer, when it was so obvious that he needed her help badly, warmed her heart. "Maybe it won't be so bad after all," she thought. "He won't humiliate me more than absolutely necessary, and afterwards, he'll hold me and comfort me and apologize to me for having used me like that, and then all will be well."

Erik felt dizzy. How often had he dreamed of making love to her? Then why did he still hesitate when she finally told him he could do just that? Could he take her up on her offer? Would she not regret it in the morning? He was still considering what to do, when she looked at him hesitantly. "Let's get it over and done with, Angel," she said. "Really, I don't mind. Just…" she paused, blushing deeply. "Just tell me if you want me to take off my nightgown, or if it is okay if I just lift it up a bit, like that."

With these words Christine lay down on her back, spread her legs and lifted her nightgown up, exposing the lower part of her body, thus giving him access to her genital area. Erik averted his eyes, deeply shocked. "What are you doing, Christine?" he asked. "You do not expect me to use you like… a commodity? Quick, cover yourself." His whole body shook. The sight of her exposed body had aroused him more than anything and he could barely refrain from ravishing her on the spot. On the other hand, seeing her lie down and spread her legs like a cheap whore hurt him terribly.

Christine forced a smile on her face. She sensed his tension and knew that she had to convince him to get his relief. She got up and knelt behind him, leaning against his back. "You can do it, Angel," she whispered. "It's no big deal. All married couples do this. I have been a bad wife to you by denying you this so far, but I know now that I did not have the right to do so. Please."

"All married couples do this?" Erik repeated, appalled. "Are you trying to tell me that this is… that Raoul… that he just stuck his… that he did it this way?" Christine nodded, blushing deeply. "Of course, Erik. You may not know this, since you have not been married before, but that's how it is done. The woman lies down and spreads her legs and her husband…" she turned an ever darker crimson red. "He thrusts into her body," she whispered.

Erik shook his head. Understanding suddenly dawned on him. If that was her experience with intimacy, it was no surprise that she had not wanted to remarry. "You are right," he whispered. "I know nothing about such things. I have never made love to a woman. None would have wanted me, because of my face, not even a whore. I have absolutely no experience in this area. But," he continued, "I do know that it should be something really wonderful and intimate, a celebration of the love that unites the couple, a mutual kissing and caressing, a worshipping and exploring of each other's bodies, slowly building up desire in each other, slowly preparing each other for the final climax, the moment of joining, when the two bodies become one."

Christine listened to him, her eyes wide in wonder. What Erik described seemed like something totally different from what she had experienced so far. It did not sound awkward or humiliating at all, it sounded like something grand and sublime, like the thing she had been longing for those past couple of weeks but not been able to name it.

"That does sound wonderful," she whispered, her voice thick with sudden desire. "Can we try it that way, Angel? Please?" Erik turned around to face her. "It should only be done between people that love each other," he objected. "I know that you care for me deeply, but your feelings for me are only that of friendship. Therefore it would not be right for me to .." Christine shook her head, smiling at him with all her love, and finally the words that Erik had dreamed of for so long escaped her lips.

"I do love you, Erik," she whispered. "It took me a while to realize it, but I think I have always loved you." Erik could not believe his ears. "But Raoul,.." he asked. Christine looked down, ashamed. "I thought I was in love with him. We had known each other as children, and I had somehow always expected that sooner or later I would marry him. He seemed the kind of man every girl dreams of," she added. "And I did care for him. He was the first man to ever kiss me." Erik sighed. If he had revealed himself to her a bit sooner, if he had started courting her before Raoul returned into her life, if he had been the first one to kiss her, would she have been his then?

"It is not that I did not love Raoul," she continued, "but I think my feelings for him were more those one has for a friend, a brother, a cousin, the boy one grows up with together, whereas you,…" she snuggled up to Erik even more. "You are my universe. Without you, I feel incomplete, but with you…" she blushed. "In your arms I feel safe, when I am with you, it feels so right, when you are holding me, I feel at home, where I belong."

Erik listened to her as if his life depended on her every word, his heart singing. "Can it be true?" he whispered in awe. "Do you really love me, the hideous, disfigured freak?" Christine's hand reached for his deformed cheek, gently caressing it. "I love you, because you are sweet and caring, because you understand me like nobody else, and because you are always there for me when I need somebody. Your face does not change who you are as a person, and it is this person that I love, have always loved."

Erik hesitated again. "Would you allow me to kiss you?" he asked shyly. Christine beamed. "Oh Erik, I have waited for so long for you to kiss me," she said. "Don't you remember, two years ago, when I… " she interrupted herself. She still felt awkward about having kissed him first then. "It did feel so right," she added. "Did you not feel it as well?" Erik nodded. The memory of those two kisses had kept him going after he had lost her, and had helped him deal with the current situation for the past few weeks.

Reverently he lowered his lips onto Christine's, who immediately responded to his kiss, relishing the feeling of his lips on hers, quickly parting hers to allow his tongue access. The moment their tongues met, both moaned in pleasure. They wrapped their arms around each other and tried to pull each other closer. Christine felt a warmth spreading inside her, a need for fulfillment that she had never experienced before, and when Erik's lips and tongue started to work their way down her throat to her collarbone, the warmth within her reached the point between her legs. A sudden desire to feel skin on skin overwhelmed her and she began to work on the buttons of Erik's pajama shirt. Her hands slid up and down Erik's bare back, before reaching lower, underneath the elastic band of his pants, cupping his buttocks, pulling him closer to her. At about the same time, Erik had managed to free her breasts from the nightgown. His tongue brushed lightly across her exposed nipples and Christine thought she would die with pleasure. How could she have survived so far without this exquisite delight of Erik's caresses?

Erik took his time. As urgent as his need for her had been, now that he knew she was his, now that she sighed and moaned under his caresses, begging him not to stop, now he found it in him not to rush things, to savor every moment of it, to truly turn this into a celebration of their love, into a memorable experience for both of them. He sensed that Christine was ready for him, long before he finally entered her. When he started to move within her, she quickly found his rhythm, and together they neared a climax neither of them had thought possible.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, naked, their legs entwined, feeling each other's skin. Christine smiled at her husband. "This was the most wonderful experience of my life, Angel," she whispered, her face glowing. "I never knew it could be like this between husband and wife."

Erik pulled her closer. "I did not know it either," he confessed. "But I always hoped it would be like that – between us." Their lips found each other, and met one again in a kiss of pure love and strong passion.


	39. Acceptance

Chapter 38 – Acceptance

The next morning, Mme. Giry had to wait a long time for breakfast, since the couple overslept. Philippe woke up first. The little boy was hungry and his diapers were wet. He therefore began to cry to get his mother's attention. Christine was wide awake the moment her son started his screaming and Erik sat up as well. They looked at each other, embarrassed. "It seems we were both really exhausted after …" Christine blushed at the memory of the pleasure she and Erik had shared repeatedly during the night. "Since we have neglected Philippe!"

Erik smiled at her. "Antoinette is probably getting hungry, too," he reminded her of their guest. "We'd better hurry now and take care of them." They quickly dressed and changed the toddler's diapers, then the three of them went down to prepare breakfast.

Mme. Giry grinned when the young family entered the living room. One look at the couple had been enough for her to see that the problem was not only solved but that things had apparently gone really well. Her two protégés both were relaxed and obviously happy, their eyes were so full of love when they looked at each other and their hands seemed to seek each other's touch. "Finally!" she sighed. "I was beginning to fear the two of you would never figure it out." Erik looked at her quizzically. "Don't give me that look, Erik," she scolded him, "but you really must have been blind. I knew that Christine loved you the moment the two of you arrived at my doorstep together last summer."

Christine blushed at the memory of that evening. Hadn't she wished then that she could stay with Erik? Instinctively she had already known that she belonged with him. She had been just as blind as Erik. She knew now that her feelings for her Angel were much deeper and stronger than those she had had for Raoul, but those feelings had always been the same. She had always loved Erik.

She remembered how she had always hoped her Angel were a real person and how she had implored him to show himself to her. She did not exactly know what had gone wrong between them, why they had hurt each other so badly and lost each other. Raoul's return had definitely played a role as had the fact that Erik had killed Buquet and her inability to see beyond Erik's face until it was too late. That night on the roof of the Opera, she had been mad at Erik, the killer, and mad at herself for having trusted such a person and Raoul had seen his chance to win her heart. She had been flattered by his attention and deep down she had wanted to punish Erik for his crimes, so she had accepted Raoul's proposal. Erik, of course, had never confronted her, never explained to her his motivations for killing Buqet. They had all made mistakes then, they had all three hurt themselves and each other and as a consequence she and Erik had lost each other. They had both suffered a lot during the period of separation, but they had been given a second chance, they had been reunited, and this time, Christine promised to herself, nothing and nobody would separate them again.

Xxxx

The next few weeks were like a dream for the young couple. They rarely left each other's side, as if they were afraid they might lose each other again if they did not stay together all the time. Erik even overcame his fear of meeting other people and accompanied Christine to the grocery store. At first his appearance provoked curious stares. They had of course all heard that Madeleine Chabrier's disfigured son had come home and most of them had met his charming young wife and boy, but Erik had kept to himself and except for the owner of the stable, where he kept César, few people had actually seen him. It was therefore not too surprising that his sudden appearance in public caused some uproar in the small town.

Erik felt nervous, with all those eyes on his mask, but he concentrated on Christine's encouraging smile, on the love in her eyes, and actually made it to the shop without a panic attack. They made their purchases, and when they left the little grocery store, they ran into the mayor, who greeted them friendly. "M. Chabrier, it's good to see you around," he said to Erik, maybe a bit louder than necessary, making sure the passers-by all noticed that he was on friendly terms with the reclusive masked man. "I hope you and your family have settled in here nicely?"

Erik was grateful for this open display of support, he stopped and exchanged a few words with the mayor. That little conversation worked wonders with the townspeople, as did Christine's pleasant personality. The lovely young woman had already won the hearts of those that had met her, and her very obvious adoration for her disfigured husband went a long way towards helping Erik to be accepted into the community; and once the new parish priest stopped by at their house and humbly asked if M. Chabrier might consider playing the organ during services, and Mme. Chabrier would be very welcome to sing in church, the couple knew that they had found their place in their new home town.

Xxxx

Marie returned to Boscherville a few weeks later, just in time to attend Erik's first performance as the parish's new organist. She was moved to tears when her beloved godson coaxed sounds and emotions out of the old organ that she had never before thought possible, and she beamed with pride when all her friends congratulated him afterwards on his inspired play. Her most fervent prayers had been answered. Madeleine's son had finally made it. He was appreciated for his talents and his mask did not condemn him to solitude any longer.

Marie gladly accepted Christine's invitation to tea. She had immediately noticed that the tension between Christine and Erik was gone and that the two had finally found happiness together. In Marie's opinion the couple now exuded an atmosphere of love and caring, which she relished. The three had barely sat down around the table and Christine had poured the tea, when the young woman suddenly paled and excused herself quickly. Erik looked after her, worry in his eyes. "Christine has got an upset stomach," he explained. "I hope she is not going to be seriously ill. This has been going on for a few days." Marie looked at him. "An upset stomach?" she asked. "Are you sure?" Erik nervously played with his teaspoon. "You don't think it's something more serious?" he asked anxiously. "Tell me the truth, Marie!"

Marie smiled at him. "Well, of course I cannot tell for sure, but it is not impossible, considering that nausea is a well-known symptom.." Erik was growing impatient. "Spit it out," he hissed. "I need to know what's wrong with my Christine!" Marie put a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. "Relax, Erik," she said quietly. "If I am right, there is no reason for worry. On the contrary. Congratulations might be in order." Erik was at a complete loss. Why would one congratulate a sick person?

Marie had to smile again at his bewildered look. "Erik, has it really not occurred to you that Christine might be with child?" Erik gasped. "You mean that she.. that we.." he mumbled. Marie nodded. "That would be my guess," she said. "Nausea is a common early symptom. It happens most often in the morning, but some women experience it at different times of the day as well." Erik nodded. It all made sense now.

Christine returned a few minutes later, still pale, and apologized. Erik looked at her. Was it possible that she was carrying his child? If so, was she aware of the fact? The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of a second child. He loved Philippe very much, but he had a feeling that it would not be a bad thing for the little Vicomte to have a sibling or two. Only children usually were a bit lonely – and way too spoiled. He smiled at the thought of another baby. Maybe it would be a little girl this time, a smaller version of his Christine. If it was another boy, though, he might resemble Christine's father. Suddenly fear gripped his heart in an ice-cold fist. What if.. he barely could finish the thought. What if the child looked like him? If he or she were born with the same type of disfigurement he had been cursed with – what would that mean for the baby?

Erik became very quiet and pensive for the rest of the afternoon, and Christine was beginning to fear he might be suffering a relapse into his reclusiveness. The moment Marie had left, Christine put her arm around Erik's waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "Angel," she asked, pulling him close. "You have been awfully quiet today. Is something wrong?"

Erik hesitated. Should he tell her that Marie thought she might be expecting again? "It is because of your upset stomach," he finally admitted. "I am worried that you might get seriously ill. But Marie.." he did not finish the sentence. Christine looked at him curiously. "What about her?" she asked. Erik shook his head. "I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe she is wrong." This had the exact opposite effect from what he had intended. He now had Christine's full attention.

"Tell me, Angel," she begged. "What does she think I am suffering from? Is it something serious, something really bad?" Erik shook his head. "No, not really bad at all," he calmed her. "Except if Marie is right about her being with child, and our baby will look like me," he thought, "then it would be bad. For the child." Christine looked at him, intent on finding out what Marie had said. "If it's not bad, then why don't you tell me?" she asked. "Please, Angel. What did she say?"

Erik realized that she would not give up until she knew Marie's diagnosis. So he relented and told her. "Marie thinks your nausea may be an early symptom of.. pregnancy." He swallowed. He had finally said it. How would Christine react?

Christine's face lit up. "Really?" she asked. "Could it be possible? So soon? With Raoul it took me over half a year to finally get pregnant." Erik had his own theories on why it had taken her so long to conceive with her first husband. Considering Raoul's idea of lovemaking, Erik imagined that Christine's attitude of endurance had negatively affected her fertility. But now was different. Now she enjoyed the intimate act and seemed ready for his seed. In his opinion it was therefore rather likely that Marie was right.

"You tell me," Erik replied softly. "We have only been intimate for three weeks, so I am not familiar with your cycle yet and therefore cannot tell if you should have bled." Christine cleared her throat, hope suddenly rising within her. "Angel, I have not bled in over a month," she whispered, "but after breastfeeding Philippe for so long, my hormonal cycle is still a bit off, so I did not think anything about it. But with the nausea…" her voice trailed and her face was radiant. "It would be wonderful," she finally said. "Angel, imagine, another baby, created by our love."

Erik nodded. There was no point in worrying about a potential child's facial characteristics when they did not even know for certain yet that they were really going to be parents again. "Is there a way we can know for sure?" he asked. "Or do we just have to wait and see if you bleed or not, and if your belly grows?" Christine smiled. His ignorance in that matter was endearing. "I can consult the local midwife," Christine suggested. "She might be able to tell, even at such an early stage as this would be." She sighed. "I so hope Marie is right. I always wanted more children, probably because I was an only child. I always envied my friends who had siblings."

Erik smiled at her lovingly. "I have no objections to that. In fact, if you are not pregnant yet, I am volunteering to do my best to get you into this highly desirable condition as soon as possible." Christine blushed at this suggestion, but did not obect.

Xxxx

The next morning, Christine visited the midwife, explaining to her that she thought she might be in the very early stages of pregnancy, but wanted to know for sure as soon as possible. How early on could one possibly tell with certainty? The midwife smiled. Rarely did she come across a woman, who was hoping so much to be with child. She asked a few questions and examined Christine, then she confirmed. "Congratulations, Madame," she said. "You are with child again, though you are only two or three weeks along, so there will be a long wait for this little one."

She smiled at Christine's obvious joy. "From your reaction to my news one might think you have been married for years without conceiving," she teased Christine. "But from what I hear this is your second child and your little boy is not quite a year old yet," she continued. "So you could not possibly have been fearing that you won't be able to have a second child." Christine smiled. "It's just that it happened so fast," she confessed. "It took me almost seven months to get pregnant the first time, therefore I am overwhelmed that this time …" she blushed. Everything was better now, love, intimacy, even conception had happened almost immediately.

The midwife returned the smile. "Children are always a blessing," she said. "I am glad that you are so happy about your condition."

Xxxx

Christine hurried home, she could not wait to tell Erik, that she was indeed carrying their first child. She found him in front of the piano, working on a volume of duets for M. Dubois. Christine walked up to her husband from behind, put her hands around his waist and laid her head on top of his. Erik stopped playing, turning his head to look at her.

"So, have you seen the midwife?" he asked. "What did she say, are you or are you not?" Christine kissed his deformed cheek. "I am," she whispered. "Two to three weeks pregnant, probably rather three than two." She blushed. "We might have created our baby the very first night we…" She looked at Erik, radiant with joy. "So what do you say about these news, Erik? Are you happy?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, of course," he quickly assured her, but Christine knew him too well. She had heard the slight hesitation in his voice. Her face fell. "Angel," she stammered. "What's the matter? Do you not want another child?" Erik realized that he had upset her. He quickly stood and took her in his arms.

"Christine, don't get me wrong," he said. "I do love children, and I do want a few more, now that you and I are truly together. It is just…" he hesitated. "Have you considered that I may not be able to give you children that are as perfect as Philippe? What if I pass on this curse to our baby?" He pointed at his deformity.

Christine's hand went up to caress his sunken cheek, smiling at him lovingly. "Would it really make a difference to you?" she asked quietly. "Your face does not make me love you any less. Do you really think I would mind if my child looked like the man I love with all my heart? Would you not love our baby if he or she inherited your face?" She shook her head. "No Angel, you of all people know how important it is for a child's development and emotional wellbeing to be loved. You will love the baby no matter what. And so will I." Erik looked at her uncertainly. "I am not talking about the two of us," he finally said. "But what about others? Other children, school-mates, teachers?"

Christine hugged him, holding him close. "You have finally found acceptance here, Angel. Do you think the townspeople would treat your child differently? And who even says that the child will bear your face? In her letter to you, your mother said that your deformity may have been caused by the shock she suffered at your father's death, when she was only three months pregnant with you. This is entirely possible. If so, your deformity is not genetic and there is no reason to assume our baby will have it too. Do not worry, my love. Our baby will be fine. And beautiful."

Another thought struck her. "Erik, what do you think it will be, a boy or a girl?" He shook his head. "I have no idea, it could be either," he smiled at her. "What would you rather have?" she continued. "Another boy or a girl?" Her enthusiasm was beginning to rub off on Erik. "I am not sure," he admitted. "Of course a girl would be nice for a change, since we already have Philippe, but then…" he paused. "Maybe another boy would not be too bad either. Philippe would definitely prefer a brother, I think, especially since the new baby will be fairly close in age to him, so he'd have a playmate, so I guess, either way would be fine." Christine nodded. He was right. "Yes," she admitted, "as long as the baby is healthy, I do not care about its sex. Or about the face," she added. "Even if our baby inherited your face, he or she would be loved," she continued, "by us, by Marie, by Mme. Giry and Meg, by Nadir." Erik had to agree. "Still," he countered, "things would be easier for our child if it did not look like me."


	40. Paris

Chapter 39 – Paris

In early June Erik informed Christine that he would have to go to Paris for a day or two, since M. Dubois had asked him for a meeting to discuss future projects with him. The duets he had been working on were ready for submission, and Erik was eager to learn what kind of compositions M. Dubois would want next: more songs, more pieces for piano, or maybe something for violin for a change, choir music or even something larger, a symphony, a mass, a concerto.

Christine was pleased with the idea. "When are we going?" she asked, enthusiastically. "I could see Meg and her mother, and maybe we could have lunch or dinner with Nadir. Philippe is growing rapidly and he will need a few new outfits for summer. I also think we should pay a visit to that friendly old priest who married us. I am sure he would love to hear how happy we are together…" Erik smiled at her eagerness, but was very reluctant to take her and Philippe with him.

"Christine this will be a long train ride," he tried to interrupt her. "I really do not think it would be wise for you … considering your condition…" Christine smiled at him. "Erik, I am not an invalid, I am simply pregnant. You do not have to coddle me and wrap me up in cotton wool. Remember what I went through when I was expecting Philippe, and did it harm me or him in any way?" Erik had to admit that she was right, but he was not easily convinced to take his little family with him for his business meeting with M. Dubois.

"This time may be different," he tried again to persuade Christine to stay at home. "Even if my… deformity was caused by shock or neglect as my mother seemed to think, there is still a possibility that a certain predisposition to such problems runs in my family, and that what might not cause too much harm in any other pregnancy might have disastrous consequences for a child with my genes." Christine wrapped her arms around her husband and rested her head against his broad chest. "Erik, don't worry too much. The midwife is happy with my condition and assures me that everything is fine with our baby. Please, Angel, let me and Philippe come with you. Also," she added as an afterthought, "I think we should inform the Comte of our traveling plans. He does have a right to see Philippe every now and then, and this would be an ideal opportunity for him to meet his grandson again. We did promise," she reminded Erik, "that we would allow him to see the boy, since he handled the situation with that terrible nephew of his so well."

Erik nodded. Théophile-Auguste had been sent to Indochine a week after his attack on Christine and the old Comte had seen to it that he would never again be financially able to leave the colony. "Very well," he finally relented. "I will take you both with me, but you must promise to rest as much as possible. For instance, if you go shopping with the Girys, let them carry Philippe. He is getting a bit heavy for you." Christine caressed his deformed cheek. She knew that Erik's reluctance to let her come with him was only a sign of his love for her and his concern for her and their unborn baby, and even though his protectiveness was a bit stifling, she felt warm and secure in his care.

"I will do nothing that might endanger myself or our baby," she promised. "When are we going?" Erik showed her a letter. "M. Dubois suggests Wednesday next week for our business meeting. We could take the train on Monday, rest on Tuesday, and while Nadir and I meet with Dubois, you and Antoinette can go shopping or meet the Comte." Christine nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a plan," she smiled. "I will immediately write to the Comte to let him know that Philippe and I will be in Paris on Wednesday and ask if he would want to see the boy." Erik did not really like the idea of Christine having anything to do with the old nobleman, but he knew he could not withhold Philippe from his grandfather. "You won't go to meet him on your own, though," he told Christine. "Make sure he understands that either Antoinette or Meg or both will accompany you."

Christine promised to mention this little detail in her letter, then sat down at her desk to write to her former father-in-law.

Xxxx

The next Monday, the Chabrier-family went on their journey to Paris. Since they were going to stay for a few days and neither Mme. Giry nor Nadir were able to accommodate the little family for that long, Erik had reserved a room in a hotel. Nadir had promised to come over for dinner, so that he and Erik could prepare for their meeting with M. Dubois.

Nadir already knew that everything was fine between Erik and Christine and that the couple was expecting another baby, but he was deeply moved by their obvious happiness. He had never seen Erik so relaxed and calm, and Christine was positively glowing in her new motherhood.

After a day of rest at the hotel – for which Christine was actually grateful, since the long train ride had been exhausting for her – plans were made for Mme. Giry to meet Christine and Philippe at the hotel on Wednesday morning, so that the ladies could do some shopping. After a nice lunch break at a café they would proceed to the de Chagny mansion to pay a visit to the Comte. Erik and Nadir would have their meeting with M. Dubois in the meantime. Since Erik expected this meeting to take longer than the hour Christine would stay at the Comte's house, he asked Mme. Giry to accompany his wife to the offices of Dubois & Suligny afterwards so that they could meet him there.

Xxxx

The two ladies enjoyed their shopping tour and bought several cute summer outfits for Philippe. At lunch they were joined by Meg, who had the afternoon off and offered to accompany them to the de Chagny mansion. "The more we are, the safer you will be," she told Christine. "One can never be too careful with the likes of the old Comte." Christine smiled. It was wonderful to have so much support.

The old Comte tried his best to keep his icy composure, but Christine noticed that he was deeply moved to see his grandson again. The old man was not ready to admit it to himself, but he actually loved the boy and had missed him terribly. He had begun to fear he might never see him again when Christine's letter had arrived, informing him that she and her son would be in Paris this week and thus able to visit him.

He furtively glanced at his former daughter-in-law. Both she and the little Vicomte were wearing new clothes, that were every bit as pretty and expensive as those worn by his aristocratic friends' families. Was this M. Chabrier really rich enough to dress his wife and adopted son like that? Both the child and his mother looked healthy and well-nourished and the little boy seemed happy and was obviously developing nicely. He could sit now and crawl, and he reminded the old man very much of his dead son. The boy really looked a lot like his father had looked at that age.

"I thought M. Chabrier would accompany you?" he asked Christine stiffly after a rather stilted welcome. Christine smiled. "My husband has a business meeting," she explained. "His latest volume of compositions is ready for publication and M. Dubois wants to discuss future projects with him. We are supposed to meet him at the publisher's office in about an hour."

The Comte nodded. He was surprised. M. Chabrier's songs and piano sonatas were more than popular in the salons, he had to admit that these compositions were truly original, but what he – and everybody else – found most astonishing, was the speed with which this new maestro seemed to put out new works. The fact that M. Chabrier avoided the Parisian society and that nobody seemed to have met the man, only added to everybody's fascination with this unique musician and his talent. The Comte had to admit to himself that he had hoped to meet the elusive artist, since he was his grandson's stepfather. Having more insider information on the nobility's favorite musician would certainly boost his own position in society, which had suffered somewhat because of his impossible former daughter-in-law and his nephew's debt fraud.

An hour was spent in superficial conversation over tea. When the three ladies packed up the toddler and took their leave, the old nobleman finally overcame his pride and asked. "When will I see Philippe again?" Christine hesitated. "I don't know," she admitted. "Even if my husband has business in Paris again, I am not sure he will take us. He might think it is too exhausting for me. It took me a while to persuade him to let us come with him this time."

The Comte gave her a puzzled look. "I bet he wants to keep his wife away from… temptation," he remarked. Christine laughed. "Oh no, Monsieur le Comte. He does not have to fear such things and he knows it. Our marriage may have started out as one of convenience, but we are very happy together. I do love him," she added blushing. "And if he wants to spare me the exhausting train ride, then it is because I am with child, and he wants to keep me and the baby safe."

The Comte looked at her, shocked. "Where does that leave Philippe?" he rasped. "Once M. Chabrier has his own child…" Christine shook her head. "You need not fear," she told the old nobleman. "Erik loves Philippe. The new baby will not change that fact. My husband is very good with children and there is room for more than one child in his heart."

The Comte was not entirely convinced, but he had the desired information. Two days later the Parisian society learned that M. Chabrier's latest compositions, a volume of duets, were about to be published, and that the talented musician was currently leading a very reclusive life in a little town in the countryside, with regard to his beloved wife's delicate condition, since the young woman was with child.

Xxxx

Erik and Nadir had arrived at M. Dubois' office at the appointed time. The publisher welcomed them warmly. Printing Erik's compositions had proven to be one of his best business decisions ever. The songs and piano sonatas sold so well, that even with Erik's unusually high salary and royalties, they had quickly turned into Dubois & Suligny's most profitable property. The new volume of duets was inspired as well. They were all love duets, ranging from deepest unhappiness and despair in view of unrequited love to the most passionate renditions of mutual feelings.

M. Dubois therefore thought it was time to commission something bigger. "Do you also write for a full orchestra?" he asked Erik. As the latter answered in the affirmative, M. Dubois suggested to do a violin concerto next. One of the major concert venues had expressed a desire to have a new oeuvre ready for the opening of their fall season when they would have a particularly talented soloist available, since a well-known Italian violinist would be in Paris at that time.

"We would need the full score ready for rehearsals by the end of August," M. Dubois explained. "The solo part maybe a week earlier, if possible. Do you think you can do it in such a short time?" Erik nodded. He remembered a Swedish folksong he had sung to Christine when she was a little girl. A variation of this melody would make a wonderful main theme for the solo violin – and Christine would be so pleased if he dedicated this particular composition to the memory of her father, a famous violinist himself.

The three men were still discussing details for this new project – the company which would be performing the concerto had particularly good woodwinds, but the brass was not much to write home about – when M. Dubois' secretary entered and announced that Mme. Chabrier and two other ladies were waiting in her office. Would the meeting take much longer?

M. Dubois grinned at Erik. "Chabrier, you are married? Why have you never mentioned your wife before? Though I should have guessed," he added. "All those love songs and duets… It should have been obvious to me that you had a muse of sorts, an inspiration." He turned to his secretary. "We are pretty much done here. You can prepare the contract for M. Chabrier to sign. In the meantime, please ask the ladies in. I would love to meet Mme. Chabrier."

Erik seemed embarrassed. "I can come back tomorrow to sign the contract," he offered. "My wife and I do not want to keep you any longer." M. Dubois did not want to hear any of it. "Nonsense, dear Chabrier," he said. "Please introduce me to the lady. I really want to know who is able to inspire such glorious songs!"

They were interrupted when the secretary returned, leading in Christine and the two Girys. Meg was carrying the little Vicomte, while her mother handled the shopping bags, so that Christine would not have to carry any weight. Erik sighed. It was too late now. They could not escape.

He rose, met Christine halfway from the door, took her hand and lead her to M. Dubois. "May I introduce my wife," he said, then turning to Christine. "M. Dubois, the publisher of my music." M. Dubois gazed at the young woman. Where had he seen that lovely face before? Chabrier was a lucky devil, that exquisite beauty seemed to adore him. "Enchanté, Madame," he finally said. "I am equally pleased to meet you, Monsieur," Christine replied. "Erik has told me a lot about you."

M. Dubois' eyes widened. Recognition hit him the moment he heard the young woman's melodious voice. "Mademoiselle Daaé!" he stammered. "I did not know… I thought… I mean, forgive me my boldness, but wasn't there some talk of you having married a Vicomte? A patron of the Opera Populaire?"

Christine smiled at him impishly. "It's Mme. Chabrier now," she said. "But yes, my maiden name is Daaé. And I have been married to Raoul de Chagny, who served in the Navy and died in the line of duty last summer. Erik and I got married only a few months ago." M. Dubois looked back at Erik, who was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. Would M. Dubois connect the dots and guess who he really was – had been?

Suddenly M. Dubois began to laugh. "Chabrier, this is priceless," he giggled. "All of Paris is going crazy over your compositions and they have no idea who you really are!" Erik paled. What if Dubois called for the authorities? After all, he had caused the fire at the Opera Populaire and Piangi… well, that had been an accident, but still, it was his fault. Christine's hand on his arm steadied him. Her lips moved. "I love you" – her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Don't worry," M. Dubois continued. "Your secret is safe with me. And I will continue to publish your compositions. It's just too funny! The gall you have, man! To come here and submit your compositions! This is priceless!" Christine and Erik were clinging to each other, both sighing in relief. M. Dubois was touched by the couple's very obvious love for each other. "He is not a bad man," he thought by himself. "After all, I've known him for months without suspecting who he was. Who knows what caused the incident with the chandelier. Don't we all make mistakes? His may have been of the more destructive nature, but that young soprano seems to have a positive, calming influence on him. For her sake I will keep my mouth shut."

A new idea struck him. "By the way," he turned to Erik and Christine. "Are the two of you aware of the fact that there is talk of rebuilding the Opera Populaire? There are plans for a festive inauguration, a gala concert of sorts. There is no date yet, but the estimate is a year and a half from now. Wouldn't it be really … fascinating.. if you, Chabrier, composed a bravura concert aria for that occasion for Madame to perform?" Christine and Erik stared at M. Dubois, then at each other. "Can we?" Christine hesitated. "Would it be safe for you?"

"Neither of you has anything to fear from me," M. Dubois assured. "I can see that you two are a match made in heaven, and that whatever happened two years ago, is in the past. You do not have to give me an answer right away," he continued. "As I said, the event in question will not happen anytime soon. Of course it would be even funnier if you could actually accompany your wife on the piano, Chabrier." Erik's fingers fidgeted. Was that Dubois' plan how to expose him? M. Dubois laughed. "Relax, Chabrier," he said. "I realize that that's not possible because of the mask. We will have to make do with your composition and keep your person in the background. But if the two of you agree, this would be great."

Christine looked at Erik. "I would be able to sing again by then," she whispered. "Our baby should be about a year old…" M. Dubois smiled. The former Miss Daaé was not only head over heels in love with her husband, she was obviously also carrying a child. A child fathered by the famous Opera Ghost. Erik had only eyes for his wife. "Would you like to do this, Christine?" he asked. "Would you want to return to the Populaire?" Christine nodded. "Maybe not permanently," she said, "but an occasional performance would be nice."


	41. Decisions

Chapter 40 – Decisions

The Girys and Nadir accompanied Erik and Christine back to the hotel to discuss the situation together. Mme. Giry and Meg were both planning on getting more information on this project of rebuilding the Opera Populaire. Maybe they could get their old jobs back? Mme. Giry loved life in a theater and had thoroughly missed the buzz and excitement of the opera house those past two years, and while Meg was not too displeased with her current job as a dance instructor, she would much prefer returning to the stage.

Christine had mixed feelings about M. Dubois' plan. She loved to sing and she loved to perform, to play a character from beginning to end. Of course Erik had helped her to retrain her voice, she had studied all his songs and the new duets with him, but if she only sang at home, for her husband and son or maybe some friends like Marie, all she would ever be able to do were songs or arias and duets with Erik. She could never portray a whole character arc, play out the whole opera, since she would be missing the choir, the ensemble players – and the orchestra. Of course she could sing an aria with just a piano for accompaniment, but it sounded so much better with a full orchestra.

She would definitely love to get a chance to perform again. Not regularly, though. She was married now, had a little son and another baby on the way, and returning to the stage for good would mean she would have considerably less time for her family. But maybe one production every year would be nice. They could come to Paris for a few weeks, see their friends there, the Comte could see Philippe and she would perform in the evenings.

She understood, though, that this might put Erik at a certain risk of discovery. People would know she was Christine Daaé, whether she chose to perform under her maiden name or under her new married name. If anybody saw her with Erik, they would guess his identity just as quickly as M. Dubois had. The Opera Ghost had been officially declared dead two years ago, but nobody would be fooled once it became known that Mlle. Daaé's husband was wearing a mask.

Erik's opinion was similar to that of his wife. In a way he wanted Christine to get the chance to reach her full potential as a singer. After all, that had been his main reason for training her voice – long before he had fallen in love with her. He also thought that it was kind of selfish to withhold her talent from the audience and have her sing mainly for her family and friends and maybe the church-goers in Boscherville. On the other hand, he was a bit wary. The fact that M. Dubois had recognized him had made him a bit nervous. He still was not completely sure he could trust the man, despite the latter's repeated promises not to betray him.

Of course he could compose an aria for Christine to perform at the reopening of the Opera Populaire and he could study it with her. But he would of course want to be there, to attend the performance and cheer for his wife. Considering his mask this seemed almost impossible. He was a respectable citizen now, he could not watch from the rafters anymore as he used to do, and with his mask he could not sit in the audience either. That is, maybe he could sit in the back row of one of the boxes, hiding behind Nadir, but in his capacities as the composer and husband of the diva, he would have to socialize at least a bit. Unless, of course, he stayed home, babysitting Philippe and the new baby.

Erik was still pondering his options when Nadir's voice startled him. "So how are we going to do this?" he asked. "Don't give me that look, both of you," he smiled at the couple. "I know you want to be a part of the reopening of the Opera, both of you." Christine shook her head. "It would be too dangerous for Erik to attend the performance. But I need him there, in order to be able to sing. I only ever sing for my Angel." She blushed deeply, glancing at her husband adoringly.

"I don't see how I could possibly be there," Erik admitted. "My mask would give me away, and I think my days in the rafters are behind me." Nadir nodded. "True. What about staying backstage? You could take Philippe and the new baby to Christine's dressing room and pretend that the children keep you too busy to socialize. That way you might be able to slip out for Christine's aria. I am sure Mme. Giry or Meg would help you with the infants."

Erik was not quite convinced yet. "This may be a possibility," he said hesitantly. "Of course I would still have to be careful not to be seen." He looked at Nadir. "Are you sure we can trust M. Dubois?" he asked. Nadir nodded. "I think so, for several reasons. First, he has known you for quite a while. He knows that you are a talented musician and a gentleman with good manners, maybe a bit eccentric, but otherwise rather ordinary. He does not see you as a murdering psychopath. Second, he has seen you with Christine and Philippe and therefore realizes that whatever you have been or done in the past, these two are your world now and you will not do anything that would put your family at risk or make you face the risk of losing them. He knows you are no threat to anybody now but a doting husband and father. And third, it would be absolutely madness, professional suicide so to speak, to hand you over to the authorities. Trust me, the man is not going to kill his cash-cow."

They continued to discuss the issue for quite a while, but did not reach a decision. They finally agreed that there was still plenty of time to mull this over and consider all risks and ramifications before making a final commitment. After all, the Opera Populaire would not be reopened anytime soon, M. Dubois would not need to commission the aria in question until this time next year.

Xxxx

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. In August Philippe celebrated his first birthday. Erik was not the only one to shower the little Vicomte with gifts. The Girys, Nadir and Marie all had some birthday surprises for their favorite toddler, and even the old Comte sent the old rocking horse that had once belonged to Raoul. Christine wrote back, thanking him on behalf of her son and promised to stop by with the boy soon.

Erik was even less inclined to take Christine and Philippe to Paris than he had been last time, since Christine was in her fourth month of pregnancy and beginning to show, but when she threatened that she would have to invite the old Comte so that he could see his grandson if she and Philippe could not visit him while Erik was delivering the score for the violin concerto to M. Dubois, he gave in, swearing that this was the last time, and asking Christine to tell her former father-in-law she would not be able to come to Paris again until her baby would be born. Christine promised to do that. She knew that Erik was right and that it was better to be overcautious, even though neither she nor Philippe had suffered any ill effects from the adventures that had preceded the boy's birth and there was no reason to assume this pregnancy would be much different from her previous one.

Xxxx

Once again Christine asked Mme. Giry to accompany her to the de Chagny mansion, while Erik and Nadir met with M. Dubois to discuss the upcoming world premier of Erik's violin concerto "In memoriam Gustave Daaé".

The old Comte was in a good mood. His accurate predictions about the upcoming release of the latest volume by Erik Chabrier had boosted his position in society. He was now considered a reliable source of information on the admired musician and several of his friends had already asked him if he might be willing to introduce the maestro to them. He had stalled for time, reminding those music enthusiasts that Mme. Chabrier was expecting a child and therefore the couple was not making any visits for the time being.

In addition to seeing his beloved grandson again, Christine's visit also seemed a good chance to get more insider information on the composer. His own popularity was on the rise again.

The Comte was really pleased to see Philippe again. The boy was beginning to stand on his own feet and it was clear that he would be walking soon. Now that Christine did not constantly feel frightened in the Comte's presence anymore and therefore was much more relaxed around the old man, the child once again picked up on his mother's emotions and did not start screaming when the Comte held him in his arms as he used to do quite regularly when he and Christine had still lived at the de Chagny-mansion.

Christine explained that she was in Paris because her husband was preparing the performance of his violin concerto, which would be the high-point of the famous violinist Giancarlo Marelli's visit to Paris next month. The Comte gasped. Marelli's concerts had been sold out for weeks. There had been rumors about a new violin concerto to celebrate the famous musician's guest performance, but it had all been hushed up, and the name Chabrier had not been mentioned in connection with these concerts, and since the de Chagnys had discontinued their sponsoring of the arts after the fire at the Opera Populaire, he had no tickets. What could he do now? How much would his insider knowledge that there would be indeed a new oeuvre, a violin concerto by Erik Chabrier, be worth, if he had to admit he was not going to attend the concert?

"Will M. Chabrier be present at the performance of this violin concerto?" he asked. If Chabrier were there and everybody could meet him, while he, the supposed insider, was nowhere to be seen, this would hurt his new-found popularity. Christine shrugged. "I don't think so," she finally said. "He will not want me travel anymore by then, and he will not want to leave me and Philippe alone either," she explained. That was true, even though it was only part of the truth, the other part being that Erik could not risk being seen in public with his mask. Another masked man might already seem too much of a coincidence, but another masked musician with a connection to the Daaé-family, which was obvious by the new concerto's title, would be too obvious.

The Comte seemed relieved. "So you will not be able to attend the performance of your husband's latest work?" he asked again. Christine smiled at him, reassuringly. "As I just said, we will not be able to come to Paris at that time," she stated. "You need not worry, M. le Comte. I will not make this event awkward for you with my presence." Her voice sounded a little bitter. Even though she was not the old man's daughter-in-law any more, she was still his grandson's mother, yet he seemed to tolerate her more than accept her.

"Since I won't be going there," the Comte replied, "your presence or absence won't make a difference to me." Christine was confused. Why had it been so important for him to know whether or not she and Erik would attend the performances, if he himself was not going?

Xxxx

Erik and Nadir had a meeting with M. Dubois in the meantime. They delivered the score and M. Dubois was equally delighted with the complexity of the instrumentation and the virtuosity of the solo part, and smiled at the dedication. "I take it, Mme. Chabrier likes the title of this latest work of yours?" he asked. Erik smiled. "Considering that the main theme is a variation of an old Swedish folksong that Christine learned from her father, the dedication is more than justified," he explained.

M. Dubois nodded. The haunting beauty of this theme would enthrall the audience and guarantee him and Erik another great financial success. They then proceeded to discuss rehearsal schedules. Erik reluctantly declared he would not be able to oversee rehearsals. M. Dubois understood. "Your mask," he said. "You are probably right to stay away, and this time we can explain your absence with Mme. Chabrier's pregnancy. Everybody will understand that you do not want to leave her alone in her condition. But we cannot use this excuse indefinitely. Sooner or later you will have to make a public appearance, meet your audience."

Erik glared at him. "You know pretty well that this is not possible," he seethed. "Unless, of course, you want to hand me over to authorities for causing the fire at the opera house two years ago." M. Dubois put his hand on Erik's arm. "Relax, M. Chabrier," he said. "I have no such intentions. You must believe me. But what if there were a way for you to meet your audiences? Would you want to attend the performance of your concerto, oversee the rehearsals, conduct or play the solo part yourself?"

Erik barely contained his anger. "Of course I would like that. How can you ask?" he hissed. M. Dubois smiled. "There may be a way. Have you heard about the new theatrical rubber masks that fit like a second skin? They are used for portraying supernatural characters, like nymphs, elves, or even devils etc. in theater productions. Anything that looks slightly different from a normal human face. They are supposed to look quite natural, especially with a bit of makeup. I have not seen such a mask yet, but if they really are as good as their reputation, maybe this would be the solution for you. A way to cover your face without being too obvious about it."

Erik looked at Nadir. "Have you heard anything about this new kind of mask?" he asked. Nadir shook his head. "No, I have not, but if you are interested, I am sure I can find out more about it," he promised. "M. Dubois, you would not by chance have some information, like a name, a company, where one can purchase such masks?" M. Dubois admitted that he had only recently heard about it in a meeting discussing the reopening of the Opera Populaire. Somebody had suggested to do a huge ballet ensemble number as the grand finale, where all the dancers would be transformed into supernatural beings thanks to this new invention. If Messieurs Khan and Chabrier were interested, he was sure he could find out more and provide them with an address where to purchase such a mask.

"Look, I do not know myself, if such a mask would hold up to close inspection," he said. "But it certainly would be less conspicuous than your current one," he told Erik. "I think it might be worth learning more about these rubber masks. You may not be able to actually attend parties without it being noticed, but you could take your wife out for dinner or walk in the streets without being stared at."

Erik nodded. "I certainly will look into this," he decided. "As you say, these masks certainly can't be more obvious than my current one. If you would be so kind and get me that address?" M. Dubois promised to do this. Then he remembered something else. "You are entitled to complimentary tickets to the performance of your concerto," he explained. "I know that you and Mme. Chabrier will not be able to attend this time, but maybe M. Khan or the two ladies that were with Madame last month?" Nadir looked at Erik. "I could give you a report how it went," he suggested. M. Dubois smiled. "Certainly. So will I. One ticket for M. Khan, then. Let me know if you need any more by the end of next week, will you?"

Erik was fairly certain that Antoinette and Meg would like to attend the concert as well, but he wanted to check with them first. He promised to let M. Dubois know the exact number of tickets he would need, then he and Nadir took their leave to meet Christine at the hotel.

Xxxx

Christine was very excited when she heard about the new theatrical masks and agreed that Erik should check these out. How wonderful if they were as life-like as they were rumored to be! What a relief for her dear Angel, if he could walk among other people without being stared at! She hoped for his sake that such a mask would help him to finally find his place in society.

Then she talked about her and Philippe's visit to the old Comte. "He was happy to see our boy," she said, "and proud that our Philippe is so strong and almost walking. But then, he was really strange. When I informed him that I would not be able to come to Paris again anytime soon, he asked if we would not attend the concert." She blushed. "He did not know yet that Marelli would perform your new violin concerto, it's supposedly still a secret, but I had mentioned it earlier as the reason why we are in Paris right now. I told him, I would not travel anymore because of this," she put her hand protectively over her slightly bulging belly, "and that you would not leave me alone. Then he asked again, and when I assured him I would not be there to embarrass him in front of his noble friends, he said he would not be there either." She shook her head. "Why was it so important to him to know if we would be there if he isn't?"

Nadir laughed. "He has no ticket! Now I know who spread the news about the soon to be published album of duets last month, and who has informed the Parisian society that M. Chabrier cannot attend any functions at the moment because Mme. Chabrier is expecting. The Comte is passing himself off as a person with inside knowledge about the elusive composer! It is therefore embarrassing that he does not have a ticket for the concert. It would have been worse, though, if all his friends, who will be there, had gotten a chance to actually meet M. Chabrier."

Erik looked at him, shocked. "Are you serious, Nadir?" The former daroga nodded. "Dead serious. I think we should ask M. Dubois for yet another ticket…"

Xxxx

Two days later the Comte de Chagny received a letter from Dubois & Suligny, containing a ticket to the concert and a little card reading "with compliments from M. Erik Chabrier, sincerely Dubois".


	42. Dénouement

First: This is not quite the end yet. There is an epilogue of sorts coming.

Second: Thank you all for reading and reviewing and for following this story till the end. It has been a fun experience and this story has accompanied me through a total of six months! I hope you will all have a look at my new story "Hearts May Get Broken" as well (shameless plug...).

Third: seems to be currently hating me. My stats do not work, so I cannot see if anybody has read any of my stories since the beginning of this year. New reviews do get in, though. I hope this will be put right soon! I have already e-mailed them, but I guess everybody was celebrating the New Year yesterday, so maybe later today or tomorrow this will be fixed.

Fourth: I don't own anything or anybody, sadly.

And now on to the new chapter, where we will finally meet - ta da! - the E/C-baby.

Chapter 41 – Dénouement

A few days later, M. Dubois was able to provide Nadir with the information about the new theatrical masks. Nadir immediately contacted the company, asking for details. As a result they mailed him a sample, which he received the day before the concert. He was surprised at how authentic it looked. With a little bit of makeup on top to cover up the fact that the fake skin had no pores at all and to match the skin tone of the rest of the face, most people would not realize it was a mask – especially not from a distance or in poorly lit rooms.

Xxxx

Two weeks later the Parisian society gathered at the concert hall for the highly anticipated guest performance of the violinist Marelli. Thanks to the Comte de Chagny's hints to some of his friends, most attendees already knew that Marelli would perform a violin concerto that had been composed by the society's new favorite musician, Erik Chabrier, for this particular occasion.

To his great pleasure, the old Comte found himself sitting right next to M. Dubois, the publisher and thus able to prove his association with the elusive composer to all of Paris. That the two Girys and Nadir were sitting at M. Dubois' other side did not bother him too much, since he was able to tell all his friends that the composer had kindly provided him with a ticket, which he had received through the publishing company. During the intermission he tried his best to get some more information on M. Chabrier out of Dubois and even Nadir. All he learned, though, was that the maestro was a very talented musician, a very prolific one, too, that he was deeply in love with his wife and adopted son, and that Mme. Chabrier was currently with child and therefore unable to travel to Paris for the concert. Since M. Chabrier did not want to leave her alone in her condition, he had been forced to miss the premiere performance of his latest composition.

Exacerbated, the Comte reluctantly approached Mme. Giry. "Have you met this man?" he asked her. "What is he like?" Mme. Giry gave him a condescending look. "Of course I have met M. Chabrier," she said. "I was at their wedding. I can assure you that Christine and Philippe are in good hands. He loves them both dearly and treats them very well. You need not worry about your grandson and former daughter-in-law," she added maliciously, knowing pretty well that the Comte had not asked for that reason.

Erik's concerto was performed immediately after the intermission. Marelli was a real master of the violin and managed to convey the haunting beauty of the main theme to perfection. Especially the second movement with its wistful melody in B flat minor impressed the audience and everybody agreed that the frenetic applause was equally due to Chabrier's latest masterpiece and to Marelli's inspired interpretation of the violin part.

Xxxx

Two days later, the little Chabrier household got swamped with mail. Nadir and the two Girys each sent a long letter with a report on the concert, assuring Erik that it had been a great success, that Marelli had done a wonderful job with the solo part and that they had thoroughly enjoyed the performance. Nadir also sent the sample mask he had obtained and asked Erik if he wanted him to undertake further steps in this regard or if Erik wanted to get in touch with the company himself. M. Dubois sent lots of newspaper clippings on the concert plus a whole lot of fan mail-type letters that enthusiastic audience members had asked him to forward to "the genius Chabrier". He also informed Erik that Marelli was making sure the orchestra in his home town of Venice purchased the music so that he could perform this "incredible" concerto with that company as well.

Erik and Christine were overwhelmed. They had been a bit sad that they could not attend the concert themselves, the night of the concert had been particularly depressing for them, but the knowledge that it had been a great success, that the composition had been well received and that Marelli had done the music justice somewhat made up for this prior disappointment.

The greatest surprise, though, was the sample mask that Nadir had sent. It was so thin and smooth that it really seemed to fit like a second skin. What was even more impressive was that, like real skin, it could show a frown or a dimple. The young couple was certain that with such a mask Erik would be able to interact with others with a semblance of normalcy that he had never experienced before. They immediately wrote back to Nadir, asking him to order a half-mask made in the exact shape and to the exact proportions and measurements of one of Erik's masks which they sent along with the letter. Christine scribbled a line underneath Erik's writings. It read: "Dear Nadir, I hope you can get us such a mask soon. Not because of me. You know that I love my Erik and that includes his face, but for Erik's sake. It would mean so much to him to be able to do all the things other people do without being stared at."

Xxxx

Nadir immediately contacted the mask company again and relayed Erik's order to them. They were a bit reluctant to do this without a proper fitting, but Erik had decided he wanted to stay out of this as much as possible. The fewer people knew that M. Chabrier needed to wear a mask, the better. Since this was a very unusual order and they had to work without a proper mold, the production of this mask took a few weeks. Therefore Nadir received it only in early December and immediately sent it on to Erik, who tried it on at once. It was everything they had hoped for. It fit like a glove and the material thinned out at the edges so that the transition between mask and skin was almost seamless. With a little bit of makeup Erik's face looked like that of any other man – perfectly normal.

He hugged Christine, beaming. "Oh my love," he said, "I know you do not mind my face, but it is so good to know that we now can lead a normal life, that we do not have to hide anymore. It is better for you and for the children." He put his hand on his wife's already very swollen belly to feel for their baby's kick. "We can go where we want, we can attend the reopening of the Opera Populaire next year, we can even perform together, and once the children go to school, we can attend school functions together like all other parents." He picked up little Philippe, who by now was running around the house pretty fast on his wobbly legs. "Look at me, Philippe," he said. "Your father now has a face like anybody else's father! Nobody will be able to tease you or bully you making nasty comments about me." Christine put her arm around his waist and snuggled up to him. She had had no idea how many areas of their lives Erik had seen affected by his mask and what a relief it was for him that he now could offer his family a perfectly normal life.

M. Dubois, who had known that Nadir was working on getting the mask for Erik, was not too surprised, when he got a note from Erik a few days later: "We are doing the reopening of the Opera Populaire."

Xxxx

The first week of February, three years after the fateful night of "Don Juan Triumphant", Christine went into labor. Marie and the midwife hovered over her. They tried to get Erik out of the way, asking him to look after Philippe, who was scared to hear his mother scream like that. But Erik did not budge. "I am not leaving her," he insisted. "I had to wait in the garden while Philippe was born and I was worried sick when my Christine screamed in agony. This is my baby as well as hers, I got her in this situation and it's therefore only right that I stay with her and comfort her as much as possible." He sat down on the bed next to Christine and put his arm around her. "Hold my hand," he whispered. "Draw strength from me. We will get through this together." Christine smiled at him between two contractions and whispered "my Angel", before another attack of searing pain shot through her body.

The two women finally relented. Erik's presence seemed to have a relaxing effect on the mother-to-be, so they allowed him to stay and asked a neighbor to look after Philippe. A few hours later Christine gave birth to a little boy. The couple looked at each other, radiant, when they heard the baby's screams. Marie smiled. "You have another son," she said, while bathing the newborn infant. "He is a real Chabrier. He is the spitting image of you and your father, Erik." A wave of concern passed over Erik's face. A spitting image of him? The child was not deformed, or was he? Marie shook her head. "He is perfect," she assured her godson, putting the cleaned up baby in the arms of its mother.

Erik and Christine looked at their son in wonder. He did indeed resemble Erik and his paternal grandfather, he even had Erik's slightly mismatched eyes, but his chocolate brown hair was showing curls like his mother's.

"Have the two of you decided on a name?" Marie's voice interrupted the couple's adoration of their little son. Erik and Christine looked at each other and blushed. With all the excitement of the past couple of months they had been putting off this particular decision and now found themselves unable to name their son. Christine giggled. "When Philippe was born nobody asked me what I wanted to call him, so it didn't even occur to me that I'd need a name for my second baby. I have always thought that it would be nice to name a son after my father, but since he looks so much like Erik and his father, maybe we could name him Charles Erik. What do you think?" She gazed at her husband expectantly. Erik nodded. "I like that idea. My father would be proud of his grandson and my mother would love him." He did not voice his impression that little Charles Erik was everything his mother would have wanted him to be, a tiny version of her husband.

Christine looked up. "Where is Philippe?" she asked. "I want him to meet his new brother." The midwife shook her head. "Not now, Madame," she cautioned. "You need to rest. You can see your son later." Christine looked at Erik for support. "Only for a moment," she pleaded. "I promise I will rest then." Erik stood. "I'll get him, but only for a moment," he said.

He hurried down where the friendly neighbor was playing with Philippe. He thanked her for her help and told her that he would now take care of Philippe himself, since his wife had had her baby boy and all had gone well. She needed rest, but would only be able to relax once she had introduced her new son to her firstborn.

After the neighbor had congratulated Erik and asked him to pass her best wishes on to Christine as well, she left. Erik took Philippe in his arms. "Oh Philippe," he said. "You have a little brother now. He is only a year and a half younger than you are, in a short time the two of you will be playmates." Philippe looked at him as if he understood. In fact, the boy had started experimenting with syllables and was beginning to form his first words. "Ma-ma?" he asked. Erik smiled at him, holding him close. "She is fine," he explained. "I will take you to her for a moment, so that you can see for yourself and have a look at your little brother. His name is Charles. He is still very tiny, but he will grow soon."

With that they had reached the door to the master bedroom. "You must be very quiet," Erik instructed his adopted son. "Your mother and your little brother are tired and need rest. We'll just sneak in and say hello, and then we go back to play."

Christine smiled as Erik entered the bedroom again, Philippe on his arm. "Philippe," she whispered, "come and see your little brother!" Philippe curiously gazed at the little bundle in his mother's arms, the wrinkled red face of the newborn baby. Erik sat down on the bed again, holding Philippe in one arm and putting his other arm around his wife and little Charles. "Three years ago I thought everything was over, and now my life is so full of wonders. I have a beautiful family, I have a career, and I have the love of the only woman in the world that matters to me," he said reverently. Then he and Philippe left so that Christine and the baby could rest.

Xxxx

Shortly after Easter Erik finally could be convinced that both Christine and little Charles were strong enough to undertake another trip to Paris. He had continued to compose over the past few months and his reputation as a musician had grown even more. He had begun to work on the aria that Christine would perform at the gala concert celebrating the reopening of the Opera Populaire which was now scheduled for March of the following year. He and Christine were planning to use this occasion as their official introduction to Parisian society. For that reason, Erik had asked M. Dubois if it might be possible to also perform his violin concerto then – only this time he would play the violin solo himself. M. Dubois had immediately agreed. With the new mask Erik would be able to make a public appearance and if the reclusive composer performed himself, they could raise ticket prices considerably and still sell out in no time.

This time, Erik accompanied Christine and the boys to the de Chagny mansion. He was confident enough that the Comte would not be able to recognize his rubber mask for what it was and would therefore never guess his true identity.

When they arrived at the mansion, Philippe immediately ran to his grandfather. "Gapa," he screamed. "Gapa!" Christine smiled. "He means grandpa," she explained. "He is starting to talk now." The old man was moved to tears and held the little boy in his arms. "My grandson," he murmured. "My Philippe."

Then he glanced at Erik. "M. Chabrier, I presume?" he asked uncertainly. Erik nodded. "I am sorry, I have not met you sooner," he apologized. The old man nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I was furious when I heard you wanted to raise Philippe, but I can see, that the boy is happy and healthy and very much loved, despite this other child here." He gestured to Christine, who has holding Charles. Erik smiled. "I can identify with Philippe," he said. "My father died before I was born, just like Philippe's. I never had a father when I was a boy, only a mother. A boy needs a father, though. I therefore wanted to give Philippe what I have not had."

The Comte seemed to understand. He looked over at little Charles and stared. "Madame," he said to Christine, slightly blushing. "I see that your second son looks just like his father, the same way Philippe looks like your first husband. I would never have thought it, but is it possible that a comedian like you… that you are a virtuous woman after all? Despite your past and the rumors about you and that hideous murderer?"

Erik tensed. Christine squeezed his hand. "Let me handle this, Erik," she said. Then she faced her former father-in-law. "Monsieur le Comte," she said, "Whatever rumors you may have heard, I can assure you that I was a virgin when I married Raoul. I was a faithful wife to Raoul until his death and beyond. I only became Erik's wife in the true sense of the word once I had moved in with him, weeks after our wedding, and I am a faithful wife to him now. I have only ever been with two men in my life, and only when I was married to them. That's why my sons look like their respective fathers."

"Can you forgive me, Madame?" the old Comte's voice was weak and hesitant. Christine smiled. "For Philippe's sake I would like to be on good terms with you, Monsieur," she said. "I never intended to separate the boy from his grandfather, but I wanted to raise my son myself." The old nobleman smiled at Philippe. "And you are doing a good job with the boy," he admitted.

Erik laughed. "Does your newfound willingness to put up with Christine and me have something to do with the fact that you have built up a certain reputation for yourself as an authority on me and my upcoming new compositions?" he asked sarcastically. The old man winced. "After the scandals involving Théophile-Auguste my good old name's reputation had suffered," he admitted. "I needed something to get into society's good graces again and my knowledge of the famous composer's projects did the trick."

He looked so contrite that even Erik had to smile. "You may keep your position as the only person who knows something about the elusive composer for a while longer," he conceded. "Christine and I will make our first public appearance next year, at the reopening of the Opera Populaire. You may use this information if you want to."

The old Comte was overjoyed. He thanked Erik profusely for this kind hint and was extremely grateful when Erik promised to get him a ticket for this gala reopening as well.

When they left the Comte, the couple went to Mme. Giry's house, who had invited them and Nadir to dinner. Mme. Giry was not surprised at all about the old man's change of heart. "He is lonely," she said. "He lost his son and his nephew as well and his wife has been absorbed in her grief ever since Raoul's death. All he has left is his good name and his grandson. By associating with the two of you, he can somehow keep up his position in society and stay close to his grandson. It was inevitable that he would come around."


	43. Epilogue

Epilogue

In mid-February of the following year, four years after the fire, the Opera Populaire was almost ready for the reopening. Only some minor cleaning and touch-up needed to be done before the building would be milling with music enthusiasts again. Dubois & Suligny had heavily invested in the restoration and as a consequence M. Dubois had been asked to act as artistic advisor. He knew that this would put him in the position of being able to decide which operas and ballets would be performed and expected the prior investment to pay off nicely over the years to come.

A company of singers dancers and musicians had been hired as well as all the other staff necessary to run such a huge company. Some of the employees were talented young new people, some had already worked for the Opera Populaire before the fire and were now returning. Among the letter group were the two Girys and M. Reyer.

The program for the gala concert had been finalized a while ago and M. Reyer was beginning to rehearse with the orchestra. They had been told that the composer Chabrier, who would play the violin part of his concerto "In memoriam Gustave Daaé" and his wife, who would perform a bravura aria that her husband had written for this occasion, would arrive in Paris the next week. Since the orchestra parts for both pieces were rather complex, M. Reyer decided to start rehearsals with these two works.

The young musicians worked hard, and after a few days they started to sound quite good. M. Reyer was satisfied. "I have been informed that M. Chabrier and his family will arrive in Paris tomorrow," he announced one day after rehearsal. "They will be available for a run-through of both, the concerto and the aria the day after tomorrow. If you play your parts as well then as you did now, I am fairly certain they will be pleased with your achievements."

An elderly cellist looked up. "Have you ever heard M. Chabrier perform?" he asked. "He writes good music but does that mean he can play the violin? That solo part is quite a challenge. As to the aria – I don't know. This requires a very, very accomplished soprano and as far as I know, Mme. Chabrier has never sung in public before. Just because she is married to a composer does not mean she can handle such a difficult aria."

M. Reyer smiled. "I am sure they will both be perfect," he said. "M. Chabrier's compositions show a superior understanding for every single instrument, he uses all of them to the greatest effect. I am certain he masters at least several of them himself. As to his wife… I think I have heard her perform and if I am right, then the aria is written to suit her voice to perfection."

Xxxx

Two days later Erik and Christine returned to the Opera Populaire together. M. Dubois accompanied them and showed them to their shared dressing room. They had explicitly asked for that so that they could take the boys with them. Since the Girys would be working at the gala as well and all their other friends would be in the audience, there was nobody who could babysit them. Philippe was now two and a half years old and spoke almost fluently, while Charles was one and starting to walk.

To Christine's delight they were assigned her old dressing room. Once they were alone, she looked at the new mirror which hang in the exact same place as the one through which Erik had come to her after the performance of "Hannibal". Her eyes were sparkling with happiness. "It was here that I met you in person for the first time," she said to her husband. "I did not know it then, but I think I already loved you then." Erik looked her deep in the eyes. "I ost certainly already loved you then," he said, before their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss.

Xxxx

Rehearsals with the orchestra would start soon and Christine hoped to find Meg or Mme. Giry and ask them to keep an eye on the boys while she and Erik would be working. Erik stayed behind. The dressing room had awoken memories in him, both good and bad. Here in this house he had found his love and here he had almost lost her forever. Fate had been merciful and granted them a second chance. In a way it was good to be back in the place and relive the positive memories, but in a way he was also glad that all this lay behind them.

Xxxx

Christine was hurrying through the corridors, her sons in tow, looking for the ballet mistress, when she heard a familiar voice call her name. "Mlle. Daaé!" She turned to see M. Reyer stand in the door of another dressing room "M. Reyer!" she exclaimed, "good to see you again." The old conductor smiled at her. "It is Mme. Chabrier now, is it not?" Christine nodded, blushing. "How did you know?" she asked. "We have not made the announcement yet …"

Reyer smiled at her. "Who else would he have married?" he asked enigmatically. "I always knew the two of you belonged together. Besides, the violin concerto is dedicated to your father. And the Comte de Chagny had so much inside knowledge." Christine looked at him uncertainly. What had he meant with the first comment? M. Reyer held her gaze. "I am glad everything turned out well after all," he continued. "Your husband is a great composer and I am honored to work with him." He looked at the boys. "Your sons?" he asked. "They are adorable little boys."

Christine smiled at him "Thank you," she murmured. "The boys are our pride and joy." She could not help the feeling that Reyer knew. "I am looking for Mme. Giry wo promised to keep an ye on them while Erik and I rehearse," she explained, taking her leave from the old conductor.

She soon found Mme. Giry who took care of the boys. Then Christine went to the stage for rehearsal. The orchestra were tuning their instruments, when Erik arrived. Christine was moved to tears, when she recognized the violin in his hands. It was not his own one, but her father's. M. Reyer greeted him like an old friend. "M. Chabrier," he said. "It's good to see you I have always admired your music and I am glad to finally meet you in person." Erik gave him a surprised look. Had M. Reyer put special emphasis on the word 'always'?

M. Reyer seemed to ignore the composer's slight unease and continued. "I just met your wife and the two boys earlier. Congratulations on your lovely family." The old cellist stared at him. Apparently the conductor knew this composer and his family. Small wonder he had been so confident the Chabriers would excel. His eyes widened in realization when Reyer added. "Let's get started with the concerto now, to honor the memory of your father-in-law." The concerto was dedicated to Gustave Daaé and if he was the composer's father-in-law, then Mme. Chabrier could be no other than the former Mlle. Daaé!

Reyer raised his baton and the orchestra began to play. Then Erik's solo violin joined in and everybody was wrapped up in the beauty of the melody and the heart-felt interpretation. Marelli's

performance had been extraordinarily pleasing, but Erik's virtuosity turned his own composition into something magical, breathtakingly beautiful. Once they had finished all four movements the musicians broke out in applause and congratulated Erik. They assured him they had never heard a more inspired performance.

Then Christine came on and sang her aria. Neither the high tessitura nor the firework of coloratura seemed to be a problem for her, it all sounded so effortless. When she reached the cadenza, Erik took out his violin again, providing an echo and a counterpoint to her singing. Everybody was holding their breath as her voice and his violin climaxed together. Once they were finished all remained silent for a moment, then roaring applause broke out. Everybody knew that the reopening of the Opera Populaire would be a huge success.

Xxxx

Two weeks later the gala concert took place. Every single piece on the program was well rehearsed and well received, but tout Paris agreed that the two Chabriers had been the absolute highlights of the evening. They now knew why de Chagny had been so well informed. The elusive composer was married to the former Vicomtesse and the older one of the two Chabrier-boys was actually the Comte's grandson.

Christine and Erik were showered with offers to perform more often. Christine encouraged Erik to accept some of those, while she declined. Two days before the gala concert she had known for sure that she was with child again. Both her and Erik were overjoyed at the news and Nadir smiled. Hadn't he predicted that these two would end up with a lot of children once they realized that their love was mutual?

Xxxx

Just before Christmas Christine gave birth to a little girl. Erik once again stayed with her the whole time. They had both secretly hoped for a girl, "though if it's another boy, we at least have experience with those by now," as they used to say. The baby resembled her mother very much, which made Erik extremely happy, and Marie beamed with pride when Erik asked her if she would be his daughter's godmother as well. Madeleine Marie Chabrier was baptized on Christmas Eve.

A year and a half later another little girl followed, Marguerite Christine. After her birth Christine returned to the stage for the occasional production. The audience particularly liked it when Christine and Erik performed together, preferably one of Erik's compositions. Wherever the Chabriers appeared together, everybody admired the love between the two artists and their beautiful children, all of which were incredibly talented for music, but none of them more than the youngest son, Gustave Nadir Chabrier, who was born almost eight years after his sisters and seemed to have inherited the combined talents of both his parents and his maternal grandfather and namesake Gustave Daaé.


End file.
